<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>we're getting there by achanceencounter</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26305888">we're getting there</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/achanceencounter/pseuds/achanceencounter'>achanceencounter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Childhood friends to enemies to lovers, Description of Self-Harm Scars, Generally Problematic I'm sorry, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Keito's Bday Fic, M/M, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, alcohol use, implied/referenced eating disorder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:00:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,320</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26305888</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/achanceencounter/pseuds/achanceencounter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>This man is a stranger to Keito. His skin is translucent, a sickly blue under the fluorescent lights, and blooming with bruises. His hands tremble where they lie in his lap, stemming from bony wrists that Keito's sure he could snap without even trying. His shirt, clearly meant to be worn by a child, hangs off him almost mockingly. He wears his hair, cut jaggedly, in a short ponytail at his nape, framing hollowed cheeks and colorless lips. His eyes, Keito notices when they catch his gaze and arrest him, are sunken and empty and lifeless and beautiful. This man, this dying, broken man, is the most beautiful stranger Keito's ever seen.<br/></p>
</blockquote>Keito had thought, when he was younger, that he and Eichi would have all their issues settled by this time in their lives. It'd never occurred to him that he'd leave Eichi's side, only to return and find a broken copy in his place.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hasumi Keito/Tenshouin Eichi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>we're getting there</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please heed the tags!! I might have left something out so please tell me if there's a TW missing. Also this fic hasn't been edited properly so,, if there's a grammatical mistake or something just trust I'll come back and read this over; all 26k of this was written at around 3 am ;-;</p><p>This fic was originally supposed to be around 2k and cover just a single scene, but I kept wanting to expand the build up to the scene and it exploded to 26k,,, ahhh,, I'm really proud of this, though, I think it's the most developed fic I've ever written,,</p><p>I'll leave my big takeaways from this in the end notes, please enjoy!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When they were still children, Keito had just assumed that Eichi would always be by his side. It'd been the natural assumption at the time, when they had still bathed together, played together, and slept together. When they were still children, Eichi would, smiling brightly enough to scorch the Earth, babble about how he and Keito were going to get married, and Keito never really had it in him to say no.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they grew into teenagers, they stopped bathing together, playing together, and sleeping together, and Eichi certainly never suggested that he and Keito run off to get married. Still, even after a year of being </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tenshouin </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hasumi-kun</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eichi </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Keito </span>
  </em>
  <span>never stopped being a unit. It was when they were teenagers that Keito realized he was in love with Eichi.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stayed in love with Eichi even as they grew apart after graduation, finding their own circles and gradually filling up the space they'd reserved for each other with new distractions. As they grew into adults, Eichi became an enigma, and Keito began to wonder if he still counted as his right hand man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(It was as adults that they shared their first kiss. They were at a new year's eve party, completely wasted, and when Keito felt Eichi's palms on his cheeks, he didn't think to question him. He'd pulled Eichi closer, actually, as cheers of </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy new year!</span>
  </em>
  <span> exploded around them and Eichi's hands slid across his nape so he could wrap his arms around Keito's neck. They'd shared that kiss, then however many subsequent, and then stumbled home together. Neither of them remembered a thing when they returned to work, even though the hint of a love-bite had peeked over Eichi's shirt collar. It didn't matter — they'd been drunk, after all.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At twenty, Eichi was abruptly pulled away from idol work, from his passion, and after several weeks locked in the hospital, had been strictly forbidden from strenuous exercise. Eichi, in a way that was completely unlike him, acquiesced, and quietly retired from </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He'd done so with a rueful smile and not a hint of protest, but Keito had, while on a visit to the hospital, caught a glimpse of him midway through a half-baked attempt at a dance, stumbling and wheezing with tears streaming down his cheeks. After that, Keito had seen that face every time he went to practice, and gradually lost his luster. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi had gotten married at twenty-one. Keito doesn't know how it happened, even though he was the best man. He knew that there was a business deal behind it, that Eichi hadn't known the girl for more than a few months, and that even though they were practically strangers, the bride and groom looked so ethereal that none of the technicalities mattered. Keito avoided Eichi the entire reception, and was the first to leave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Since then, five years have passed, and they've only spoken thrice over the phone. They haven't seen each other face-to-face since Keito gave Eichi a pat on the back at his wedding and then left without looking back. Keito can almost say that he hasn't thought about Eichi since that day, when he resolved to lock up the mass of tangled feelings between them and finally throw out the key. Keito's been doing just fine on his own, and he thinks that he'd be just fine never seeing Eichi again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That is, until he gets a call from a number he doesn't recognize. The first three times it calls, he doesn't answer. It's only after that shrill ring begins for the fourth time that he plucks up his phone and readies a lecture for whoever is on the other end.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Keito-kun?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hibiki!?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's been even longer since he last spoke with Wataru. Before the wedding, he'd dared Keito to raise an objection. Keito never did, and not wanting to see the pity on Wataru’s face, spent the rest of the evening avoiding him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What a relief I could find you! You just disappeared off the face of the Earth, you know!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Of course I did. It's only served me well, not being caught up in you and Eichi's antics.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You've been looking for me? Did something happen?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wataru's silent for an odd few seconds, before he answers, "Something's </span>
  <em>
    <span>been</span>
  </em>
  <span> happening, more accurately."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And it affects me how? If it's really that big of a deal, you could've contacted me earlier."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's about Eichi."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That name is like a burst of electricity at his core. Keito remembers, of course, days when that name along was greater than any other summon imaginable, before it became an occasional find on the daily paper, one that he came to avoid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What Keito can't remember is when that name had begun to strike fear in him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"...Eichi's business isn't mine."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He needs you," Wataru insists. It sounds like an insult. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He </span>
  </em>
  <span>needs </span>
  <em>
    <span>you, that's what you wanted right? For Eichi to need you more than anyone else?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If he really needed me, he would've talked to me himself."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And with that, he hangs up, because the last thing he needs right now is involvement with either Wataru or Eichi. He has a good job, enough free time to work on manga, and a few coworkers he's close enough with to be invited to go out drinking. Eichi may need him, but he doesn't need Eichi. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few minutes pass before Wataru tries again. Keito declines the call the first five times, but accepts it on the sixth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I already—"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Eichi didn't ask for me to get you, I called myself. He's in a really bad place right now, and you're the only one I can turn to."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What does he need that you can't give him?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't know him as well as you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He hasn't spoken to me in five years."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, I didn't grow up with him. And I know that you two haven't talked in a while, but maybe finally seeing you again might help."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s a frightening suggestion with frightening implications, because there's no reason for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tenshouin </span>
  </em>
  <span>to need assistance so badly that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Keito's</span>
  </em>
  <span> presence will help.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What do you want me to do?" he concedes, even though he's still trying to convince himself that none of this means anything to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'll explain on the way. Are you free?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not now. Can it wait until tomorrow?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I suppose it can." By his tone, it's clear it can't. Keito doesn't care enough to press him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm working until six. I'll send you my location when I get off work. This better be worth my time."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"When has Eichi ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> been worth your time?" Wataru teases, and Keito hangs up without a second thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Predominantly, it's regret fogging his mind, because </span>
  <span>one</span>
  <span> two phone calls shouldn't be all that it takes to unravel five years of work carving Eichi out of his life. He wonders if it's too late to go out and get a beer, or if he should save it for tomorrow night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wataru doesn't call again (Keito </span>
  <em>
    <span>hadn't </span>
  </em>
  <span>been waiting, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>hadn't</span>
  </em>
  <span>), so instead of trying to return to work on his manga, he stumbles off to bed. Eichi is future-Keito's problem. He spends every second before succumbing to sleep dreading what's to come. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(He won't admit it, not even in the deepest recesses of his mind, but some part of him is buzzing with anticipation. He hates Eichi, he tells himself in a mantra, he hates that stupid asshole who never stopped to think about how Keito felt. He hates that pretty smile, and those lithe fingers, and that innocent, boyish laugh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…He wants to see them again</span>
  <span>.)</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito's leaning against a streetlight when his phone rings. It's 6:12, and moments before, he'd been debating whether or not to throw in a towel and go out drinking. His stomach is up in knots, and the promise of cheap beer to wash away the confusing cocktail of emotions Eichi's name had aroused is enticing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he gets a call, and after letting it ring for three seconds, he swallows down his anxieties and answers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Were you lying!?" Wataru accuses immediately upon answering. Just that is enough to lodge a jackhammer in Keito's forehead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I sent you my location. Are you seriously an idiot?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I've driven around four times and I haven't seen you! The only person here is just staring at his phone. I don't think he's noticed me yet."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh…" It's surprising, how tame this Wataru is, like he's finally learned to keep his voice down— "That's you!?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's me," Keito repeats. Subconsciously, he brings a hand up to comb through his gelled back hair. Judging by Wataru's reaction, it's the lecturing, overbearing Keito from high-school that Eichi needs, not this aloof businessman who's fully committed to erasing the past between them. Eichi doesn't need him, he just needs a facsimile of the boy he clung to as a child.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's you!" Wataru echoes back, his bewilderment quickly subsiding to enthusiasm. "You look so grown-up, Keito-kun!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm twenty-six. Stop treating me like a child."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I do feel younger hearing your— ah, there you are!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito turns his head and sees a… surprisingly normal-looking car. He almost doesn't believe that it's Wataru's.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Keito-kun, don't just stand there!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Awkwardly, Keito pushes himself off the streetlight to approach the car. God, he feels like a teenager again, lanky and artless in his approach. That doesn't stop Wataru from looking amazed, wide-eyed and gaping as he watches Keito fumble into the passenger's seat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You cut your hair," is the first thing Keito observes once he's settled in, his bag tucked neatly atop his legs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I did! It makes me look younger, doesn't it?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's weird. Why did you cut it, anyway?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I wanted a change!" Wataru exclaims as he restarts the car, completely in character, before continuing with a more down-to-earth, but infinitely bewildering, response. "And it's easier for the stylists."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is </span>
  </em>
  <span>this Wataru Hibiki? Last Keito checked, Wataru Hibiki didn't bend for other people, they bent for him, as naturally as water. Wataru was landmark statue standing strong among waves of ever-changing faces, not something that could be moved to accommodate the whims of other people.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wataru must realize Keito's confusion. He coughs under his breath and focuses his eyes on the road. He's uncomfortable, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wataru Hibiki is uncomfortable. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Nevermind my hair, you're a new person! You're a man!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's only a collection of obvious and unsurprising changes, but they still make Keito feel self-conscious. The edges of his jaw had hardened, his shoulders had grown to fit comfortably in his suits without them hanging off of him, he'd learned to style his hair in a way that screamed </span>
  <em>
    <span>capable adult </span>
  </em>
  <span>rather than </span>
  <em>
    <span>bumbling otaku</span>
  </em>
  <span> — all changes he'd expected. But, having realized that even the insuperable Wataru Hibiki has learned to bend to other people, he's beginning to wonder if he's changed more than he thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're a man, too. And isn't Eichi? He's had to grow some himself."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He still looks like a high schooler," Wataru sighs dejectedly. "If I aged like him, I could keep acting forever. From purely a job security point, I'm jealoous…!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So he's the same as ever."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh? No, not quite. I did say he was in trouble."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You never explained that. Stop going around in circles and explain yourself; I don't have endless free time, you know."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If you weren't with me, then you'd be in your bed reading manga," Wataru asserts, quite accurately, and Keito bristles. "But, well, Eichi's gotten sick again."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He's always sick, he doesn't need me to help him get better."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'd like to believe that, but, as I said, he's changed. If he was still the confident, pertinent little thing he was in high school he'd be invincible."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito's blood runs cold. He thinks of Eichi, his beautiful, angelic, dastardly precious Eichi, and desperately tries to tell himself that it doesn't matter. He's not attached to that boy from all those years ago, none of this matters to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it does, so he asks, "What's wrong with him?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He's completely indifferent towards whether or not he dies. He can't leave the hospital because the doctors are afraid he'll return as a dead body to autopsy. It's like he's enamoured with the idea of disappearing entirely."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He's suicidal</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Keito translates quickly, a translation he quickly discards. That can't be right — Eichi had treasured his life more than anyone else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"A long time ago, Eichi told me that you were the one who taught him not to be afraid of dying. Now, I think he needs you to teach him that accepting death with open arms would make everything he fought for a waste."</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seeing Eichi for the first time after five long years somehow manages to be worse than all those nights of pining and regret and frustration all rolled into one. It starts with their walk through the hospital. The halls feel boundless and hostile in a way they never had when he was young, and Keito realizes that this is how it's supposed to feel for people who didn't consider the hospital a second home. It's just as strange when Wataru pushes the designated door open, and Keito's stomach turns like a monster is waiting on the other end. He walks in, and sees a stranger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This man is a stranger to Keito. His skin is translucent, a sickly blue under the fluorescent lights, and blooming with bruises. His hands tremble where they lie in his lap, stemming from bony wrists that Keito's sure he could snap without even trying. His shirt, clearly meant to be worn by a child, hangs off him almost mockingly. He wears his hair, cut jaggedly, in a short ponytail at his nape, framing hollowed cheeks and colorless lips. His eyes, Keito notices when they catch his gaze and arrest him, are sunken and empty and lifeless and beautiful. This man, this dying, broken man, is the most beautiful stranger Keito's ever seen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito stares at the stranger for a minute, feeling his face twist up in recognition just as the man below him parts his lips in shock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Keito?" the stranger murmurs, his voice strained and quiet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Eichi?" he asks in response. He's hoping that there will be no answer, this can't be Eichi.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he is, and as the stranger realizes that he doesn't quite count as one, he shakes his head almost unconsciously and lets his face twist into disgust. He turns his head to Wataru and says:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I told you I didn't want him to see me like this."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Him,</span>
  </em>
  <span> like Keito's a dog who can't understand a thing. Perhaps he doesn't. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't be rude to your guest, Eichi. Here, I brought some tea for you!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Wataru dances around the room in search of cups, Keito stands, stick-straight and unmoving. Eichi's jaw clenches, those bony fingers curling into fists. When Keito's vision trails down to his wrists, he notices the thick layers of bandages across his forearms. Two currents stream through him, then: a great, trembling fear at their implications, and a morbid curiosity as to what he would see were he to rip them away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Drink up!" Wataru says as he places a platter on Eichi's bedside table, his enthusiasm clearly forced. "You can sit down and have some too, Keito-kun."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like a child at a stranger's house, Keito tentatively sits down and takes the proffered cup of tea. It's lukewarm and lacking in fragrance, but when he lifts it to his lips to try it, he recognizes the taste instantly. This tea had been Eichi's favorite from childhood.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's comforting to know that there's </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>that hasn't changed, or it would be if Eichi hadn't ignored his cup entirely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know it's not the best, but I'd appreciate it if you drank it," Wataru tells him, and pushes the platter closer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm not thirsty," Eichi replies, petulant as a child. Keito follows his down-turned gaze to his hands, flexing and unflexing, and notices that his nails are yellow. As if to save face, Eichi adds a quiet, "Thank you, though."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are you feeling shy?" Wataru asks. Even Keito, as unfamiliar as he is with this new Wataru, can tell that he's trying desperately to pretend that nothing has changed, like just a bit more prodding will fix everything. Eichi's face screws up even more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's okay if you are. You don't need to be, though, it's just Keito-kun." He turns his gaze to Keito. "Right?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito coughs and says, "Right."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi says nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Eichi." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if the sound of Keito's voice is a thousand knives, Eichi curls in on himself. Keito hates it, hates how miserable and dead he looks. He can't stand the thought that his beautiful, strong Eichi was replaced by this stranger while he was away. The man before him is an intruder in the body of his beloved, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>hates </span>
  </em>
  <span>it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Eichi," he calls again, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Look at me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No!" Eichi hisses, like he's just noticed a spider crawling up his arm. A tiny, delicate hand comes up to clutch Keito's wrist, laughably light, in an attempt to pull it away. Keito doesn't let him. "Why are you even here?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You need help, don't you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not from you!" Those kind eyes of his hold daggers. "You're the last person I wanted to see! Get out, both of you!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wataru lifts his hands up, perhaps in an attempt to calm them, but it doesn't matter. Keito's already shoving Eichi down, leaning over so the man can't avoid his gaze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Did you go back to being a completely selfish brat while I was away!? Is </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> how you treat the people who take time out of their schedules to put up with you!?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No one asked you to come! If you cared you wouldn't have waited until Wataru dragged you here!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We're in a hospital, you two!" With a frenzy completely unlike his usual, Wataru tries to pull Keito back. Keito lets him — Wataru's intervention doesn't grant Eichi anything to be prideful of — and with a final glare, picks up his bag to leave. His abandoned tea is only half-done.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>During the train ride back to his apartment, Keito thinks about a great many things. He thinks about how much time has passed, how much Eichi has changed, how much he hates the new Eichi. He thinks, subconsciously, that maybe this is his fault, and, as the train pulls up to his station, wonders about the melancholy hiding in Eichi's eyes behind the rage and fear.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He never wants to see Eichi again. That look of utter defeat was everything he sought to avoid when he was younger. He'd committed so many awful, selfish and irreversible sins for the sake of Eichi's smile, only to have it wiped away the second he turned his head. So he resolves to never step foot in that hospital again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lasts a week.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's not sure what compels him to return. It might be his own pride not allowing his hard work to go in vain, it might be that he's sentimental towards an old friend, it might even be the guilt from all his previous mistakes telling him that he can’t abandon anyone else. The reason doesn't matter, ultimately, because it makes no difference the moment he steps into Eichi's hospital room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi doesn't turn to see who's entered the room. He sits there, perfectly motionless, staring out the window. His fingers drum a weak rhythm into his thigh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Look at me, Eichi."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi is surprisingly obedient, if only out of surprise. He whips his head around to look at Keito, eyes wide with surprise and posture stiff.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I thought you were a doctor," he mumbles, more for his own ears than Keito's. Keito doesn’t wait for him to continue, plopping down on the guest chair as if he owns the place. He can tell, by Eichi's narrowed eyes, that he's pushing it, but he doesn't care. He started pushing it the moment he walked into the hospital. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't the doctors have a schedule for when they check up on you? It shouldn't be a surprise."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It feels like they're always coming and going. They can't take their eyes off of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Troublesome Tenshouin Boy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, after all." His face screws up when he recites the nickname. Keito remembers it from childhood, how it always seemed just right on the boy with too much energy to be confined to a bed. It seems misplaced on the dead-eyed man before him. "That doesn't matter, anyway. Why are you here? I thought I scared you off for good last time."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You should've. It'd have been a lot easier that way.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I have some questions for you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ask Wataru."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I wanted to ask you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why, so you can lecture me about what a fuc— failure I am?" Eichi's slip is jarring to both of them, though Eichi is quick to hide it with a sneer. "Don't you have a girlfriend waiting for you at home? Shouldn't you be with her?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What gave you that idea?" Eichi lifts a brow, challenging, and Keito wants to </span>
  <span>kiss</span>
  <span> punch that smug look right off. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What do you know about my romantic pursuits? I avoid your name like the plague and hate the mere thought of you, but you're the person I think about when I'm getting off.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The way you carry yourself is different. You're all tall and confident now. Why wouldn't you have a girlfriend?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Because yours the only person I've ever wanted but now I fucking hate you and I don't even know if I can feel those kinds of things anymore. </span>
  </em>
  <span>"Stop flirting with me. You're a married man, it's too late for you to decide you have a crush on me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You'd like it if I did, didn't you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p><em><span>Yes.</span></em> <span>"No."</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, really?" As if to offer a challenge, one of Eichi's impossibly bony hands comes up to grab Keito's tie. "You were in love with me, weren't you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That's a low blow. Of course, Keito had already guessed that Eichi knew, but as long as Eichi acted unaware it was fine. He could play cool when Eichi teased him subtly in ways that could be misinterpreted a thousand different ways. There's no misinterpreting this, though, and as he feels a light tug at his collar, his last thread of composure snaps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I fucking hate you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi's smile twists into an emotion Keito can’t name. "Why? Because I'm ruining the precious boy you wanted to marry? Is that why you're angry?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're not Eichi."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know." That smile is almost pleasant. It grates at Keito's sanity. "Do you want proof of that?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't wait for an answer. The hand that had been holding Keito's tie drops it, but the relief is only momentary. Keito watches with dread and sickening anticipation as it drops to where his free arm had been lying in his lap. His fingertips catch at the mass of bandages beginning at his wrist, and with considerable effort, he rips them off. The layers are so thick that it takes Eichi multiple passes to reveal his skin, and Keito wants so desperately to pull his hand away. He can infer what's hiding underneath by himself, he doesn't need to </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. Judging by Eichi's frantic, unsteady movements, those concerns are meaningless</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Eichi finally gets a good grip on the bottom layer and pulls, Keito feels his stomach collapse. The scars are layered, some long and uncontrolled, and others short and precise. Keito can only see a few inches, but he already wants to vomit. Everything's going blank — he doesn't understand. Traitorously, his mind doesn't hesitate to fill the void with images conjured from the darkest parts of his imagination. He sees Eichi crying, Eichi laughing, Eichi gripping his bloody wrist and calling out </span>
  <em>
    <span>Keito, Keito</span>
  </em>
  <span> in hopes that Keito will materialize and hold him and make it all okay. Perhaps all were reality at one point, perhaps none of them were.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Would your Eichi have these? Or, or—" Somehow, his voice edges on excited, a wild desperation crossing over his eyes. "Or a divorce! Would your Eichi's wife have divorced him? Or…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito doesn't listen to him continue. Somewhere, deep down, he knows that Eichi doesn't want him to. Eichi, the Eichi he knew and loved, wouldn't have laid himself bare without reason. He wants to think that this Eichi is the same, that he's showing Keito all these gross, ugly things so that Keito knows he needs help. Maybe he wants to be held, and reassured, and comforted. Keito's Eichi would.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Shut up."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi does, to his credit, shut up, but that wild look remains. It’s almost like an invitation, beckoning Keito to say the wrong thing and get him going again. It's a challenge that high-school-Keito would consider elementary. Now it's daunting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I didn't come here so you could throw a pity party for yourself and drag me into it," he says, his voice harsher than he'd meant for it to sound. It keeps Eichi subdued, at least. "Just tell me what happened in a way that's concise and understandable."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, nothing can ever be easy with Eichi. Instead of doing as told, he turns to look out the window, and says, "So I was right when I said you don't care. Not about me, anyway."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The person I care about is my childhood friend. Now stop being a pain in the ass and let me help him."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't think you care about him either." Before Keito can inquire who is left, Eichi turns back to him and tilts his head with a pleasant smile. "I think you only came back because your pride wouldn't let you leave me all alone. I was always suspicious of you having a savior complex."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And what if I do?" Keito counters, too quickly. Eichi's composure melts away. "Hibiki doesn't know how to deal with you. If you don't let me help you, you'll just be left on your own."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You say that like I haven't been all alone for the past few years." At Keito's look of confusion, he sighs and shakes his head. "My father died three years ago. It wasn't exactly a surprise, or it shouldn't have been, but I wasn't prepared. I'd thought I'd been on top of things, but I'd never actually thought about all the work my father would leave for me. People were understanding at first, but… I fell behind. My health was dipping and I was starting to slip at meetings. I'd mix them up, or misplace papers, or interrupt them by coughing. Mother was furious, she thought I'd ruin their reputation. My wife didn't care.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Then, maybe three months after my father's death, I had an attack and was hospitalized. They gave me prescription medicine to ease the pain and sent me home with it. Know what I did with it? I went home and had an overdose. I knew what I was doing was dangerous, but… I didn't care. I was done with everything, I just wanted an out. For the next couple of months I was in and out of the hospital, and my ailments were increasingly self-inflicted. At some point I started cutting myself just to feel like I had some control, in a twisted sort of way. It was pain that I could control, and it made me feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>something.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"My wife waited until my third overdose before she divorced me. I can't remember how it happened, or when exactly, but it seemed that she'd vanished in an instant. My mother started to shun me when the doctors said my condition was too unstable to return to working normally. I became the only failure the Tenshouin conglomerate had ever produced in under a year, and I didn't even care. I still don't. Quite frankly, I just wish you and Wataru would leave me alone to die in peace."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That's as much an invitation as any. He could walk out right now and never turn back, and no one could say anything about it. Eichi's a lost cause, there's no helping him, and Keito has his own life to tend to outside of Eichi. If he leaves right now, he would never have to see those scarred wrists or those hallowed cheeks or those sunken, beautiful eyes again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then why isn't he leaving? Why can't he seem to lift his body and walk away?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're not going to make fun of me?" Eichi asks suddenly. His head is tilted in what seems to be genuine confusion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> me. You're going to make fun of me, aren't you? While you were off getting a job and becoming handsome and being successful, your beloved childhood friend was rotting in his own insanity all by himself. I'd make fun of me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>All by himself.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I doubt I'm worth half that praise."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That doesn't change the fact that I threw my life away. Anyone is better than me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Anyone.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"...Yes, probably."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm glad we agree." Eichi's lips curl into a businesslike smile. "Well, I suppose we have nothing left to discuss."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We don't," Keito agrees, still numb all over. Somehow, he manages to push himself out of his chair and towards the exit. He doesn't turn back once as he leaves, he doesn't even think to. He only manages to maintain one concurrent thought for the rest of the day:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He was left </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>all by himself</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>, with no one to help pull him up. </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Anyone</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> could have done it, even me. I should've been there; I should've been there.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just to be sure, Keito does some research when he gets home. He records his findings as follows:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>The Whereabouts of those Close to Eichi from around Three Years Ago:</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Wataru Hibiki:</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Traveling across the globe to perform in theatres. Playing some roles in foreign films.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Tori Himemiya:</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Opening a new branch of his family's business, expanding his work overseas. Immensely busy.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Yuzuru Fushimi:</b>
</p><p>
  <b>See above.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Tsumugi Aoba:</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Unclear. Possibly doing independent idol work.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Ritsu Sakuma:</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Unknown.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And (within the margins):</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Keito Hasumi:</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Avoiding every mention of the Tenshouin name.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…Yes, Eichi had been very alone.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't have an excuse the third time he walks into Eichi's hospital room. Not a real one, in any case. That doesn't stop him, however, from finding his way back three days later. It's as though there's a magnetic pull between him and Eichi, and even his greatest efforts aren't enough to nullify it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door closes behind him with a reckoning thud. He's alone with Eichi, the man he'd distanced all those years ago because he knew he'd try to monopolize him all for himself if they were too close to each other. It's dangerous, in that aspect, that he can be allowed to be so close to Eichi without supervision, but, as it seems, Eichi is a danger to himself, so it's a moot point.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Each step across the vinyl floor is hesitant, and his presence seems tentative. He could turn around as easily as he came in and they'd never have to see each other again. Eichi could die before thirty because of his own stupid decisions and Keito would never have to think of him again. He wouldn't even need to attend the funeral.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(But he would, silently and torrentially, weep for him. His stomach would collapse and his lungs would implode and he would wonder why he isn't the one dead.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi doesn't turn to look at him, so Keito doesn't greet him. Selfish bastard doesn’t even deserve a greeting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stare out the window together (or, simultaneously, because </span>
  <em>
    <span>together </span>
  </em>
  <span>seems out of place for the two of them) for what seems like hours. The sun is beginning to set over the city skyline, casting everything in a magnificent orange light. Eichi's hair glows pink in the sunset, and almost manages to look pretty without the harsh glow of fluorescent lights. He looks like an angel, all melancholic and ephemeral, and it moves Keito in a way very few things have managed to since he graduated high school.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Out of instinct he reaches for his bag, rummaging around to find his sketchpad and pencil case. The only indication that Eichi notices is the nervous curl of his fingertips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Drawing at Eichi's bedside, he realizes when he presses his pencil to the page, is familiar the same way a mother's embrace is. He remembers, distinctly, having done it so much as a child. Eichi had always clamored about him when he did, leaning into his space and knocking their heads together. The sparkle in his eyes when he watched Keito draw was the same as the one he got when he talked about idols. Keito doesn't know why he finds it unnerving that Eichi isn't doing the same now. Eichi's an </span>
  <em>
    <span>adult</span>
  </em>
  <span>, of course he doesn’t care about Keito's scribbles, and it's not as though Keito ever found having someone watch him draw pleasant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito had always drawn fairytale characters when he sat at Eichi's bedside, strong and beautiful and victorious. There had been times when he wanted to draw Eichi, but he was always refused. Thinking back, it wasn't odd in the slightest. Eichi was always insecure about being seen in the hospital, where he was helpless and weak, and even Keito wasn't exempt from that. Keito had never considered that when he was younger — he thought Eichi was always beautiful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That's what Keito thinks about as he sketches Eichi's figure onto the page. He's doing this to spite him, of course. It has nothing to do with the fact that he thinks the image of this dying man staring into the sunset to be beautiful. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He comes back every day after that, drawing in silence as Eichi stares sullenly out the window. Eventually he starts bringing his pen tablet so he can work on his manga in Eichi's room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That's when he starts talking to Eichi. He never gets any replies, but that doesn't dissuade him. He rambles about anything and everything that goes on in his life outside the hospital plan, which ends up being mostly his work life and his ideas for his manga. He misses the younger Eichi's enthusiasm for hearing these stories, how his eyes had lit up and he leaned forward so he could hold onto Keito's every word. There's a lot of things the old Eichi did that this man never does. It's part of the reason Eichi's sunken eyes make Keito's vision pulse red.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Weeks pass like that, with Eichi staring out the window as Keito draws and talks to himself. At some point, the hospital begins to feel like home again. He learns this new Eichi's nervous ticks, learns to spot when Eichi's subtly tilting his head to hear him better. He begins to leave his initial paper sketches at Eichi's bedside, and is pleased to find their positions shifting day after day. These little things accumulate, and it becomes easier for Keito's mind to wash away the ugly, pitiful thing Eichi's become.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thirty-seven days pass before Keito misses a day. He wakes up that morning with a pounding head and dry lips. His throat protests every swallow and his nostrils burn with irritation when he blows his nose. His first thought isn't about work, it's about the hospital. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can't visit an in-patient with a cold.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If they were younger and still close, he'd probably text Eichi. He'd never been honest as a teenager, so his message would be nagging and concerned at once. Eichi would respond with an emoticon, and then insist on coming over to take care of Keito. He'd saunter around Keito's room oh, so proud to have their roles reversed until Keito got better, and he realized that his own throat was feeling scratchy. Keito always thought it cute how stubborn he was when it came to admitting when he got sick, even when it was Keito's fault.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But they're older, and practically strangers (even if Keito's been pouring his heart out to Eichi for the past five weeks), so Keito doesn't text. It's not like he even knows Eichi's number. Besides, Eichi hardly even acknowledges his presence — Keito certainly won't be missed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That day, and the next two, pass in a haze of sleeping and working and drawing and waking up at his desk with his pencil still in his hand. When his throat finally clears and he can breathe smoothly, he returns to work. Eichi almost manages to slip his mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Almost.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knows he must look jittery as he boards the train after work. He wants to get back to that uncomfortable seat in that uncomfortably white room, and he doesn't even know why. There's a bundle of nerves fizzing under his skin, burning confusedly as he pictures Eichi's figure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That man is a waste of life — he's beautiful — just looking at him feels like a betrayal — he's Keito's most precious thing — he's an abject failure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can't decide how he feels, even as he's walking up the stairs towards Eichi's hospital room. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why am I going back? I don't have to go back. I haven't been here in three days, what's one more? What's another month, another year? What's the rest of my life?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito can hear a sharp inhale as the door creaks open. Eichi's breath is harsh and uneven, and as his head whips to face the door, it catches in his throat. He looks like a child again, with those large, desperate eyes, and tiny hands clutching at his blankets. Maybe if his eyes weren't sunken, and his cheeks weren't hollowed, and his wrists weren't marred by his own hands, Keito would be moved.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(He wants to hold him, he wants to take Eichi in his arms and give him something proper to grab on to, he wants to—)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stare at each other, deathly still, for a beat, then three. It's Keito who makes the first move, stepping into the room and towards his chair. He was only away for a bit, there's no reason for him to start acting differently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At least that's what he's thinking as he leans down to take a seat. It's then that a hand shoots out to grab his collar, knocking him off balance. He stumbles, slouching over the bed as he plants a hand besides Eichi's hip to steady himself. He feels Eichi's breath on his cheek in irregular, heavy bursts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Where did you go?" Eichi heaves, his voice labored but oddly smooth. Keito leans back so he can read the look on his face: wide-eyed and frantic, irises darting about to catalogue every detail on Keito's face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I was sick," Keito answers, sounding more defensive than he should. Why does he feel the need to justify himself when he owes Eichi nothing?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh." Eichi's hand falls away, and just as always, he turns his head to stare out the window. For the first time, Keito finds himself wishing he could read Eichi's expressions. It's harder to talk today. He finds his tongue getting tangled between what he knows he should say and what his impulses want him to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He decides to leave an hour early. Just as he's gathering his things and standing to leave, he feels a hand tug at his sleeve. Eichi isn't looking at him, even as his fingers curl around the fabric at Keito's wrist, and Keito is wondering if this is what nervousness looks like on him. Why is he afraid of Keito, when not even death can faze him?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Eichi inhales slowly and turns to meet Keito's gaze, he has that same child-like look of desperation. Those eyes remind Keito of all those evenings when he was a child and he'd wanted to go home but Eichi hadn't let him, hanging onto his arm and whining about how lonely he would be. </span>
  <span>Keito kind of wishes this Eichi would do the same.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi doesn't. Instead, he poses a simple question: "Are you coming back tomorrow?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I suppose," Keito says. "What's it to you, anyway? I find it hard to believe that you particularly care whether I'm here or not when all you do is stare out the window when I'm around."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi bites his lip. "I was just thinking that it'd be a shame if you came back only to leave again."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I can't be helped if I have to leave. You're an adult, you should understand that."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>…You're an adult, but I want to hold you in my arms and erase all your pain, I want to tell you that you're not alone anymore, I want to spoil you the way I used to. Maybe </span>
  </em>
  <span>I'm </span>
  <em>
    <span>the one who isn't acting like an adult.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>They return to their usual routine after that, sharing a one-sided conversation that seems more personal than it ought to. It's become relaxing to sit in that room and just talk, Keito realizes as he begins another mundane tangent one day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> "I couldn't get my hair right today," he says offhandedly, half-focused on what he's saying and half-focused on the figure coming to life under his pencil. "It was a lot easier to get ready in the morning when I didn't need to style my hair for work."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi quirks his head towards Keito, momentarily glancing away from the window. He returns his gaze to the city skyline as he says, "I don't know how to feel about your hair."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Somehow this is, perplexingly, perfectly </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eichi</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>He's</span>
  <span> He'd always been like this, shifting conversations out of frame but always managing to reel others in. Keito is no exception.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What's wrong with my hair?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You were so dorky before, and your hair didn't help. I suppose it wasn’t unattractive, but it was never going to win someone over." He spares Keito another quick glance. "Now, even when your hair isn't styled perfectly, it's… ah, nevermind."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometime over the last five years, Eichi learned to reign his rambling in. Keito's first thought in response is </span>
  <em>
    <span>it's just hair</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but then he looks to Eichi's matted, choppy ponytail, and thinks again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Your hair's changed too. You were always so meticulous about it before, now it looks like you've never seen your reflection."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi's fingers curl in his lap. "I suppose that's not an inaccurate evaluation."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How so?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For the third time today (a whopping record!), Eichi turns to look at him, and this time, he holds his gaze fiercely. "You certainly didn't like seeing your precious, perfect Eichi looking like he just crawled out of the trash. What makes you think I want to?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It's your fault — I'm sorry I let you become this — own up to your own failures — </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>you're still beautiful</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"When was the last time you looked in a mirror?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi snorts. Were he still a teenager, it'd be elegant, but now it's just pathetic. "I don't know. Years, I'd guess."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That explains why you look homeless," Keito says, and slides his eyes back to his journal. "Which is honestly impressive for a Tenshouin."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi doesn't respond, sinking back into his routine silence.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito had, as a child, mistakenly believed the scale of something's righteousness to be an axiom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Any decision Eichi made, for example, applied to this. Eichi was a kind, earnest thing at the end of it, so even if his actions were misguided, they were ultimately good. The same applied to his parents' whims, because even if it was annoying, familial obligations took precedence over his own rebelliousness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He'd also believed, at the time, that Eichi’s fear of death was a terrible, terrible thing, and nothing else. What else could it be, when it caused Eichi's eyes to well up with tears and his tiny body to shake uncontrollably?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"I don't want to die, Keito," </span>
  </em>
  <span>Eichi had said, his tiny body curled atop Keito's legs as he sobbed into Keito's shoulder.</span>
  <em>
    <span> "The doctors said I should be ready, but I'm scared."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Of course you're scared, no one wants to die."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"But you don't need to be scared. You're not going to die tomorrow."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Doesn't mean I'm not scared." </span>
  </em>
  <span>He'd raked his nails down Eichi's back.</span>
  <em>
    <span> "I'm always scared whenever I visit you in the hospital. And it's even worse when I leave, 'cause I'm afraid I'll miss my chance to say goodbye to you."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A high, miserable whine slipped past Eichi's lips. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"Sorry. I'm sorry. You don't deserve this."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Maybe not, but it's fine. It’s because I'm so scared that I'm happy when you leave the hospital."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He'd felt, then, Eichi's eyelashes tickling his chin as he blinked, and the tell-tale curl of Eichi's lips into a smile.</span>
  <em>
    <span> "How do you always know what to say, Keito?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's been a while since Keito knew what to say, and there are many questions he has no answer for.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For instance: if Eichi's fear of death was such a terrible, terrible thing, why does Keito long for it so desperately? How does that fear's antithesis — this disgustingly tepid apathy — manage to be just as awful? Why does Keito, in the face of it, forget how he's supposed to feel and what he's supposed to say?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's a matter of perspective, certainly. As a child, Keito would've never imagined that his strong, determined Eichi would grow into something mangled and destroyed. It's almost cruel how things turned out, how Eichi managed to ruin himself the second he was out of Keito's reach. It makes Keito's mind burn with </span>
  <em>
    <span>what ifs.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What if I didn't ignore him after he got married? What if I was more valuable to him back then? What if I'd made it clear to him that sleeping with him wasn't a drunken mistake? What if I'd told him I loved him?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another thing Keito remembers is a question he'd asked Eichi, and the answer he'd gotten. He remembers it fondly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"You're always so afraid of dying even though you know you don't have much time left. Why do you want to stay alive?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>After a moment of consideration, Eichi had replied, "I want to become an idol and make other people smile, like the idols did for me! And I want to show all the people who think I'm too weak for this world that I'm not. And…"  He'd lit up, then, smiling at Keito like what he was about to say was the most obvious thing in the world. "And I want to see you grow up and become a mangaka!"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When had all those dreams been washed away? When had "why do you want to stay alive?" become—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why do you want to die so badly, anyway?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi blinks and then laughs, just as he'd done as a child. Except he isn't a child anymore, and he isn't pretty anymore, and he isn't bright, or willful, or lovable anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn't </span>
  </em>
  <span>I want to die?" This is today's Eichi's obvious. "I've ruined everything, and no one wants me back. I have no dreams and no future to look forward to. Even you are only sticking around out of obligation to my past self."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know. I'm only here because I'd hate myself even more if I let you die.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Isn't it tiring, sitting in this hospital room with a dying man all day?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Isn't it tiring to just sit around and think about how much you want to die?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi stills for a long moment, before throwing his head back in genuine laughter. It spills into the air like honey, almost foreign to Keito's ears, but still hauntingly familiar. It twists Keito's stomach before he can will himself to turn a deaf ear to it.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Today, Keito has news for Eichi.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"This weekend I'm meeting up with a publisher. They were interested in what I've been working on."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi says nothing, but his shoulders do curl minutely. Keito can't even begin to guess what it means. He should ask, maybe, and he might want to, but it's so hard to be honest with Eichi or expect honesty from him. They're past the point of naively believing in each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi probably hasn't believed in Keito for a long time. He knew, back then, that Keito was in love with him even though Keito never said a word about it. Did it concern Eichi that his childhood friend was keeping a secret from him, that on matters of less transparency Keito may have been a complete mystery?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oddly enough, it feels almost as if they trust each other more now. There's no ambiguity in their relationship, and they know not to expect more than the other is willing to give. Eichi can always trust that Keito will come to fill the silence in his hospital room, and Keito can always trust that Eichi will be there to listen. That's why he's content to brush these moments of uncertainty under the rug. He doesn't need to understand Eichi. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Except he does, </span>
  <span>and he might want to,</span>
  <span> because when Eichi's fingers delicately latch around his wrist as he stands up to leave, he can't find it in himself to be annoyed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"This weekend…" Eichi begins, still not turning to look at Keito. "Will you be too busy to come?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito should say yes; he doesn't owe anything to Eichi.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Does it bother you that I won't have time?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi dips his head so his bangs cover his face, but Keito can still see his ears blooming red. "A bit."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Somehow that's all it takes to get Keito's pulse pounding. He knows this isn't healthy, that he should have left his obsession with being useful to others behind when he left Eichi, but it can't be helped. His desire to be depended on was as selfish as it is selfless, and now it's almost entirely selfish.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito realizes, in some far off corner of his mind, that he should be terrified. This codependency surely isn't healthy for either of them, and Keito knows the adult thing to do would be to look Eichi in the eye and tell him that he has more important things to worry about than some dying man in a hospital. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He does the non-adult thing. That is, he feels his face flush red at the prospect of Eichi needing him (just like he had as a child), and grumbles something about making time.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi looks far too happy when Keito does show up on the weekend. He doesn't smile — he never really smiles anymore — but he does look a bit less dead than usual.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Keito begins to talk, Eichi's eyes return to the window, but every couple of minutes they wander back to Keito. It feels like a game, almost, trying to figure out what exactly it is that makes Eichi want to turn to look at him. He feels oddly exhilarated, watching Eichi revert, if only slightly, back to the boy he used to be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For instance, when Keito mentions that he'll have to wait a week for the publishers to get back to him, Eichi's reflection in the window visibly lights up. It makes Keito's heart pound through his ears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shifts his gaze to look out the window, because he definitely does not want to look at Eichi right now. This Eichi is the closest he's gotten to the Eichi he loved, and looking at that sorry face would destroy the illusion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(He's being selfish, but he can't bring himself to care. It only benefits Eichi to act like he used to.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because he's never been the best at denying himself pleasurable delusions when it comes to Eichi, he imagines how the child Eichi would react to this news. His eyes would light up, surely, and he'd burst into cheers as he pulled Keito into a hug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite himself, Keito smiles as he gets lost in his daydream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Keito…?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fuzz in Keito's eyes dissipates, and the real Eichi is there, looking as awful as always.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ah, I spaced out, huh."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi's bony fingers reach out to brush Keito's cheek. He almost flinches away, but when he doesn't, his chest mischievously decides that this touch is pleasant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I was surprised to see you smile. Though, I suppose it's only natural you'd smile now," Eichi says. "You should smile more. Your constant scowling makes you appear older than you are."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don't give a damn what you think — if you want me to — why are you lecturing me when you look like </span>
  </em>
  <span>that</span>
  <em>
    <span> — I'm smiling because of you, and I'll do it again if you want — I'd never smile around someone so disgusting — I'll smile just for you; for you, for you, </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>for you</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I feel older than I am."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi hums, almost a laugh, and retracts his hand. Keito misses its nonexistent warmth and hates himself for it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That night, Keito's mind deviates back to those delusions. He imagines high school Eichi, huddled under his covers in the dead of night, cuddled close to Keito's chest and beaming.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"I'm glad your dream could still come true, even though I stole it," </span>
  </em>
  <span>dream-Eichi says, and in his imagination, Keito pulls him closer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"You didn't steal a single thing from me. I wouldn't have made it this far without you."</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dream-Eichi giggles, and rubs his nose against Keito's collar affectionately. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't get to linger in that fantasy, though, as it fades away, replaced by the sprawling hallways of Ensemble Square. Keito and a new dream-Eichi, who looks around twenty, are standing together, tucked against the doorway of a vacant room. Keito tells him about the publisher, and that stock, business smile of Eichi's melts away into something genuine and joyous.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito's heart swells.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before he can truly indulge in that feeling, the location shifts again. He's walking up the stairway of an apartment complex, he thinks, his steps brisk and hurried. When he unlocks the door and pushes it open, a familiar voice responds to his </span>
  <em>
    <span>I'm home.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Welcome home!" </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dream-Eichi hums, stepping into the entryway. Keito can't tell what age he is, because he's quick to drape himself against Keito's chest. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"You look happy, did something good happen?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"The publishers are interested in my manga," </span>
  </em>
  <span>Keito answers, dipping his head to breathe in dream-Eichi's scent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream-Eichi pulls away to look at him, his eyes curled into delighted half-moons. His smile is the same as it has been in the last three scenarios, but there's something about this one that makes Keito's chest constrict. Perhaps it's the tongue that darts out to wet those pink, pink lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Of course they're interested, you've been working very hard after all."</span>
  </em>
  <span> Using the weight of his body pressed against him, dream-Eichi pushes Keito back against the door. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"Would you like a reward, Mizuhanome-sensei~?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, with an elegance that should be impossible, dream-Eichi drops to his knees, and leans in to rub his cheek against—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito gasps, pulled out of the daydream with a sudden, rapid blink of his eyes. He's sitting on his bed, he realizes, and as his eyes trail downward, he sees the rapidly growing tightness in his slacks. By instinct, he reaches down to palm it, imagining that his hand is Eichi's. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pressure is cathartic, in the first instant, warm and heavy and relieving — until it isn't. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That </span>
  </em>
  <span>instant is one that causes the illusion to shatter completely, crushed under the weight of the very tangible pressure at his dick. Dream-Eichi — healthy, happy, and beautiful — fades away, leaving the broken, sickly Eichi from the hospital in Keito's mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This Eichi, the real Eichi, would never do this for him. He'd probably just raise his nose and sneer if he saw Keito now, half-hard merely by imagining an Eichi that doesn't exist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He might even be afraid. Maybe he'd slap Keito, and tell the doctors to never let him back in, this pervert who goes home and touches himself while thinking about him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Keito feels disgusting. The heat coursing through him becomes stuffy, and the sweat on his neck becomes uncomfortable. Why is he tainting Eichi like this? Why is he tainting what little Eichi there is left by imagining him on his knees? Eichi shouldn't be on his knees, not for Keito, never.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Guilt isn't an immediate erection-killer — Keito's dick grew immune to it back in high school — but it does throw his mood off completely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Disgruntled, uncomfortable, and repentant, Keito pushes himself off the bed and stumbles towards the bathroom. He doesn't stop thinking about Eichi, even as ice-cold drops of water prick at his back and shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito shouldn't go back to the hospital after that, but he does. For the next two days, he returns to that room without fail and talks as he always does, pretending that he's not keeping any secrets from Eichi or from himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything is normal; it's just him and this dying man. There's no need to get so worked up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's glad that Eichi doesn't look at him or speak. The man is a whisp haunting the room more than an actual person, anyhow — if he had any of the liveliness from his teenage years, Keito would be choked up by guilt. But this Eichi is silent and faceless, so Keito pretends nothing is wrong and comes back to talk to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the third day their conversation hits a lull earlier than usual. Maybe it's a sign that Keito should leave (it's definitely a sign that Keito should leave), because nothing good can come of them trying to messily fill in the gaps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't leave. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He means to, and after ten minutes he even manages to gather the resolve to organize his things back into his bag.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I need to stop causing trouble — he's not worth all the time I spend with him — I don't want to hurt him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That's when Eichi decides to speak up, his voice quiet yet steady. "The doctors think I'll die before the week is over."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite himself, and the fact that this really shouldn't be a surprise, Keito startles, nearly spilling some of his pens out of their case.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"D-Did your condition get worse?" He can't control the stutter in his words, and Eichi seems to take amusement in it, his dull eyes twinkling in some vague impression of mirth. "You look the same as always."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That is to say, he looks like he could drop dead at any moment — and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> — but not anymore now than before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, my condition is the same," Eichi answers, his voice still flat. "At the beginning of every new week the doctors tell me that they don't think I'll make it to the next."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If it's nothing new, then why bother telling me?" He should probably let this go, everything about this new Eichi is nonsensical. He doesn't speak nearly as much as he used to, but most of what he says is the same, depressing descent with little in the way of actual meaning. So, Keito should let it go, and pretend that this Eichi is just acting appropriately mental, but he can't. Instead he, idiotically, presses, "Unless something </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>change."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't get much of a reaction out of Eichi, but what he picks up on is telling: Eichi blinks once, twice, thrice, and then curls his fingers into the duvet as his teeth sink into his lower lip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi's face curls in a look of shame, staring at his balled fists in his lap. "This is the first time it's scared me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It… scared you?" Then, a second later, because he really thinks he must have misheard him, "Are you sure?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I… I don't know. I didn't think I was scared, but then I realized that if I died before the week was up, I wouldn't get to hear what the publishers said about your manga. I… I don't want to die right now, I'm scared."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perhaps he wants consolation, like he'd gotten all those times he'd opened up to Keito as a child, but Keito has no words for him. Eichi's skin is still colorless, and his wrists are still stick-thin, and his cheeks are still hollow, but he doesn't want to die. This is what Keito wanted, isn't it? Yet he can't conjure the words to tell Eichi that this is okay, that his fear of death isn't anything to be ashamed of, that this is step forward rather than a step back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Aren't you going to say something?" Eichi grumbles, almost in a pout. "This is all your fault, you know."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"M-Mine?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes, yours." In a movement that seems too sudden for the still of the hospital room, Eichi's hand darts to grip Keito's collar. "You're the one who came back when I decided I was okay dying alone. If you didn't come back, I would have already pulled all my IVs out and jumped out the window."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He says it like an insult, but Keito wonders if this is actually an act of gratitude. Somehow it makes him giddy, the fact that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> got to save the once untouchable emperor all by himself. He should, in theory, see all the warning flags set out in front of them, the true terror of the fact that he's the only reason Eichi doesn't want to die, but he turns a blind eye to them. This Eichi is dead-eyed and worthless, but he needs Keito, and he won't run away like he had all those other times, and when it comes to his childhood friend, Keito really doesn't have the self control to step back and think things through objectively.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What do you want me to do?" he asks, feigning indifference despite the fact that goosebumps are erupting across his arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Take responsibility," Eichi says, a bit petulantly. "I'm </span>
  <em>
    <span>scared</span>
  </em>
  <span> and it's your fault, so take responsibility."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He's adorable — this is dangerous— I'll do whatever he asks — this is dangero— he's acting like he used to — this is dan— I love him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"H-How do you expect me to do that?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't leave me. Ever." He pulls Keito closer by the collar, and dips his head into the crook of Keito's neck. "You don't get to come back and make me afraid of dying only to leave. If you leave me all alone again I'll hire a hitman to go after you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito should push Eichi away, put a bit of distance between them, and think things through rationally. He should, but he doesn't, because after spending so many years watching Eichi slip through his fingers like sand, the fact that Eichi </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs</span>
  </em>
  <span> him is enough for him to throw aside common sense. It feels like a victory, in a sickening sort of way, to brand Eichi with the same dependency the man had branded unto him when they were younger. An eye for an eye, as they say, except this is the first time he's actually succeeded at forcing something from Eichi after the boy had spent so many years dragging him along. It's disgusting, and sick, and awful, but Keito likes it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So instead of doing the rational, adult thing, he tucks his chin atop Eichi's matted, greasy hair, and chides him, "You really are a piece of work, you know."</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they were children they'd shared a quite similar exchange.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"I'm not afraid of dying anymore, Keito,"</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eichi had said, looking livelier than he had at any other moment in their lives. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"It's because of you."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"You're exaggerating,"</span>
  </em>
  <span> Keito had replied, his face quickly blossoming red. It was annoying, but he never seemed able to control those reactions when he was with Eichi.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"You know I'm not." </span>
  </em>
  <span>He'd said it so confidently as to make it fact, and who was Keito to deny him, especially when the boy he'd fallen in love with was leaning over to capture him in a hug? </span>
  <em>
    <span>"Don't leave me just because I'm stronger, though."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Why would that make me leave?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"You already fixed me?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"If it's about fixing you I'll never leave. You're still impatient, immature, and selfish."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi'd laughed, effortlessly vibrant. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"If that's what you think, Keito."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito had stayed true to his word, mostly. Until Eichi got married, he'd followed Eichi's lead and remained as his right hand. He didn't leave until his use to Eichi had expired.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he'd never 'fixed' Eichi. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hadn't even really meant it when he initially said it. Eichi was impatient, immature, and selfish, but those traits were what made him </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eichi.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Keito loved him too much to even consider changing what he was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That isn't true for the current Eichi. Sure, he's Eichi, but he's a hollow shell of the boy Keito had fallen in love with. No one would commit atrocities or make sacrifices in his vain, even someone as lovesick as Keito. He's too apathetic for others to care for him. So maybe it's alright to consider 'fixing' him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It would only benefit Eichi, after all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he asks Eichi, a few days later, as they sit in the hospital room in silence. "Would you like to be fixed?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi smiles a small, knowing smile. "You mean make me more like I used to be so you can project your ideal love interest onto me?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito chokes on his saliva; Eichi giggles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I suppose I wouldn't dislike it. I'm not exactly proud of who I am right now."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Who would you like to become?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The mirth in Eichi's eyes darkens, and he turns to look Keito fully in the eyes. The absent, noncommittal vacancy Keito has grown accustomed to is washed away by the furrow of his brow and the tremble of lip. "Don't make fun of me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't say something stupid."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi doesn't laugh. Instead, his gaze flutters, and in a quiet voice, he murmurs, "I think… I want to be someone who can be loved by others, so that they won't all leave me behind again. Even if it's only a single person, it's enough for me. You loved the old me, so if I went back to being like that, you'd love me, wouldn't you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito opens his mouth to answer, but finds his tongue unable to shape words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why are you so shocked? Why would I want to stay as I am now?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito blushes and darts his vision to the floor. "I thought you'd call me a pervert."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, it's not like being a pervert and having good intentions are mutually exclusive. And just because you try to fix me doesn't mean you'll manage; I'm not a naive five year old whose world can be shifted just because he made a new friend, I'm a twenty-six-year-old fuck up."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know," Keito acquiesces. "But I'd still like to try. You were much healthier before, you know, you'd be able to get out of the hospital."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Mm, I suppose." He doesn't really seem to care, closing his eyes and leaning over to rest his head on Keito's shoulder. "Would judge me if I told you a secret?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Depends. It's not another instance of you being a fuck up, is it?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Nope," Eichi whispers. His voice is a quiet, prickling breeze against Keito's neck, and Keito wonders if it's a seduction. "I had a very big crush on you back when we were children. I thought you were my knight in shining armor who came to rescue me from the hospital bed."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"...Oh."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Isn't it kind of like that now? Haven't I come back to rescue you again? Doesn't that mean—?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are you in love with me now?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He feels the rapid, tickling sensation of Eichi's eyelashes fluttering — it feels like hitting a bullseye in archery.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"...You weren't supposed to ask me that."</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Oh. </span><em><span>Oh.</span></em> <b><em>Oh.</em></b></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi doesn't say anything, he just buries himself further in the crook of Keito's neck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm not going to say it so don't ask."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>love </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shouldn't. He's not the beautiful, strong Eichi that Keito had pined for, he's the ugly, broken thing that latched onto him because he was the only branch floating by in a vast, dark ocean. Keito doesn't want this Eichi to be in love with him for all the same reasons that he does. It's instant validation, a reassurance that those feelings hadn't been a complete waste, but that's exactly what makes it awful. He doesn't want this stupid bastard to be in love with him, he wants </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eichi</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be in love with him, and the fact that Keito is willing to overlook all the discrepancies between the Eichi of his dreams and the Eichi of reality speaks to one of his worst weaknesses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"...I'm not ready to talk about this."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I thought you'd say that," Eichi sighs, not moving from Keito's shoulder. "It's not like I can force an answer from you, anyway."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He probably could, if he really wanted to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't know why you'd expect an answer after shoving that onto me so suddenly. Aren't you supposed to be subtle?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I was subtle."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not nearly enough."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I guess so." Eichi pulls himself off of Keito, and leans back to sit properly in his bed. "You won't leave because of this, will you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I should.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I won't."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Good."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lapse into silence, staring at each other. Keito's eyes trace over the figure he's grown so familiar with, so skinny as to be only bone and pale enough that his veins show through clearly under his skin. He looks at those scarred wrists, those bony fingers, the sagging shirt, that matted hair, those chapped lips, those sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks, and wonders if he could love them. Probably not: Eichi's lips are too chapped to be nice to kiss; his body is too fragile for Keito to even consider touching it; his eyes are too dead for Keito to want to meet their gaze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He still does, though, and realizes that Eichi is probably thinking the same thing as him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If I looked and acted like I did when I was younger," Eichi offers, shifting his eyes to his palms resting in his lap, "Would you take me out on a date?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I might consider it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito's flying blind. He knows that, technically, Eichi agreed to let him off the hook, but every action he makes is a commitment. He can't delay this, he realizes, he needs to decide whether he'll run from this fuck up while he has the chance, or stay in hopes of getting his childhood friend back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like always, Eichi wins out, so Keito hesitantly reaches out to pat him on the head. It's an awkward, mechanical movement, but Keito knows from the way that Eichi’s expression pinches and his ears light red that this is close enough to the gentle, loving affection they'd shared as kids to strike a chord.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Make sure you eat the food they give you. All of it. And get enough sleep. And shower."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi's eyes widen, his posture straightening as he inhales a long, quivering breath. When he exhales, it seems to take the soul out of him, as his shoulders curl forward and his brows knit together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'll try."</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito gets home that night, screams into his pillow for a few minutes, and then decides to call someone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hasumi?" Kuro greets him, his voice muffled over the speaker. "Is something up? It's not like you to call so suddenly, or so late."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito groans into the speaker. "I need someone to talk to and beer. A lot."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"A lot of what, advice or beer?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Both. Can I meet you at the bar?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The one by the station? Sure, I'll be there as soon as I can."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thanks."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't worry about it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito muffles one last groan into his pillow before pushing himself up, trying in vain to smooth out the ruffles in his shirt. It's late and he has work tomorrow, but he doesn't think he'll be able to calm the confusion raging through him unless he blacks out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he boards the train, he thinks about Eichi. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Again.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He thinks about how broken he looks, and how similar he's become to the Eichi Keito was in love with, and about love and what a twisted, painful thing it is. He tries reciting it in his head in an attempt to normalize it — </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eichi’s in love with me, Eichi's in love with me, Eichi's in love with me</span>
  </em>
  <span> — but it makes little difference when he fails to even approximate the midway point between hating Eichi's guts and wanting to kiss all his pain away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nearly collapses into the booth Kuro's seated at once he makes it to the bar. There's already beer waiting for him, and with only a quick hello, Keito's already throwing his first glass down. Kuro leans back in his seat, watching him with vague interest as he patiently waits for Keito's worries to spill.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito doesn't even try to sort his feelings into words until he's finished with his second glass, and by this point, Kuro's nonchalance has given way to an amused look of concern.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Did you get fired, Hasumi?" Kuro asks, reaching over to pull away the third glass when Keito reaches for it. "You're drinking like the world is going to end tonight."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito slaps Kuro's hand away and reaches over to swallow a few satisfying gulps. "Eichi's in love with me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kuro's face melts into confusion. "Huh? Tenshouin… in love with you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He told me when I came to visit him in the hospital earlier today," Keito says, and takes one last gulp before placing the glass back down. Kuro visibly sighs in relief. "I don't know what to think because he's a total fuck up and I hate him, but sometimes he really acts like he used to and it makes me want to kiss him, and sometimes I have wet dreams about him. Fuck him."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kuro's jaw rests agape as he responds. "Are you going batshit, Hasumi?" He reaches over for his own glass of beer and, quite pointedly, chugs it. Once satisfied he returns the glass to the table with a heavy thud and sighs slowly. "You're not making any sense. You and Tenshouin haven't spoken for like, five years. And isn't he married? … What the hell."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seeing Kuro's confusion does numbers against any confidence Keito may have had. He really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> doesn't want to explain it and feel any more stupid than he already does, but he's not gonna get any advice at all if he keeps his lips screwed, so he relents tells Kuro all of it. He tells Kuro about how Wataru had annoyed him into coming, about how much he had hated the sight of Eichi when he first saw him, about how Eichi had been left all alone and his health had spiraled out of control. He talks about how Eichi wanted to die, and how he himself had thought he should, but still kept coming back every day until Eichi became afraid to die, about how he was slowly becoming more and more like he used to be. He tells Kuro about Eichi's stupid confession, and his stupid answer, and then promptly drops his forehead against the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Holy shit," Kuro says, and takes another swig of beer. "You're really…" He's probably about to call Keito an idiot, but reconsiders after glancing down at the miserable lump in front of him. "You know what, good on you for being honest and telling him you weren't ready to answer. That was smart of you, at least."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>At least</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Keito groans with a cringe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes, at least. Why did you even go back to him if you hated him so much?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't know. It felt wrong leaving him all alone."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Couldn't Hibiki have stayed with him?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"...Stop asking me questions I can't answer."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Jesus Christ," Kuro sighs, and urges Keito up with a hand on his shoulder. "I understand that you want to see him go back to being like he was in high school, but using dating you as a term for it is just… ick. It feels manipulative, on both your parts. Like, I know you aren't a bad guy, but if you let him keep clinging to you you're gonna end up taking advantage of him whether you mean to or not. And telling him that you'll date him if he 'fixes' himself… Look, I know you want to see him get better, but if he relies so heavily on you to fix himself, then he'll crumble the second you step away from him. You're setting him up for failure."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Should I just leave him to </span>
  <em>
    <span>die</span>
  </em>
  <span>?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm not saying that you need to go back to ignoring him. But he should be hanging out with other people besides you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Probably."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Definitely."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"...Can I still go see him tomorrow? I feel like he'll die the moment I take my eyes off him."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kuro sighs in a very precise manner that seems to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>this is the exact problem I was just lecturing you about.</span>
  </em>
  <span> What he actually says is, "I can't stop you. And… listen, I'm glad that you're trying to keep him safe, but don't end up causing bigger issues in the process."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'll try not to." Keito takes up his beer again and resumes drinking it, sipping slowly as his mind trails back to Eichi. "Why is Eichi always dragging me into trouble?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're letting him. Do you think it's worth it?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito considers this, raising his eyes to the hanging light above them. "Back in high school it was. It isn't anymore."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If you don't think it's worth it, then why do you keep going back."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I… this man isn't Eichi, but it feels like he's getting there, slowly. He isn't worth it, but Eichi is."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>Eichi, and you love Eichi. You love him, even the parts of him that make you want to kill him."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Even his matted hair, and sunken eyes, and scarred wrists, and colorless skin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito's face screws together, visibly affronted by Kuro's suggestion. How can he love all those ugly, wretched things, when they're the exact reason that his beautiful, spotless Eichi had to sink into a pit of vile and despair?</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito returns to Eichi that afternoon after a day spent at home, napping away a horrific, self-inflicted headache. Though he'd gone to find advice, and had gotten it, he has little confidence that what he is doing is right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Laying off a bit and letting others fill his place is easy in theory, but so hard in practice. This hopeless creature is </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> to care for, after all, and Keito's far too selfish to really stop and think about how wrong that is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's more concerned with the assertion Kuro had made last night. He'll admit that his feelings towards Eichi had always bordered on obsession, but this </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn't </span>
  </em>
  <span>about</span>
  <em>
    <span> Eichi</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It's about a stupid, suicidal bastard who's never given Keito a single reason to give a shit about him, who fell in love with Keito knowing that it'd just be like rubbing salt in a wound, </span>
  <span>who showed an age-hardened Keito that he was still capable of feeling the warmth Eichi had spurred in him all those years ago</span>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That bastard is, when Keito walks into his hospital room, picking at a bread roll with nails. He doesn't look up even as Keito plops his bag on the floor and dumps himself in the chair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Is this your dinner?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi bites his lip and continues to knead his bread. "It's my lunch."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And you still haven't finished it?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"...It's a lot."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito sighs, running a hand through his hair to get it out of his face. He hadn't cared enough to style it today. "You need to eat it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I already know that."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Then just do it. Do you wanna stay locked up inside a hospital forever?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi's lips curl into a grimace, and as his fingers curl into fists, the roll he'd been holding in his hand is crushed. "... Go away."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Is this how you treat your guests?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You've been awfully rude for a guest," Eichi snaps, not looking up from the crushed bread in his hands. "Why are you so mad, anyway?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The answer is obvious. Keito doesn't voice it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Does it have something to do with your hair?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fine, I have a hangover."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi smiles, just a bit. "Did hearing that I'm in love with you send you into that much of a shock?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Stop teasing me, you ass." Keito raises a hand to muss up Eichi’s already messy ponytail. "If you really want me to take you out on a date, then you should do as you're told and eat."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as quickly as Eichi had brightened, his expression sours into a grimace. "It's not that easy."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nothing is </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> easy, is it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That so?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi nods. "I want to eat it, and I know I should, but my stomach just… ugh, I feel like I'm gonna vomit."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't say anything, I don't need you to patronize me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Keito doesn't say anything. Instead, he lifts his hand up to pet Eichi's hair. Eichi's eyes blink open, his lips parting in a silent gasp. He doesn't say anything, leaning up into Keito's palm. When Keito's fingers dip to knead at his nape he sighs quietly, the noise almost lost to the constant beeping of his heart rate monitor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's like they're young and friends again — this Eichi is nothing like the one Keito loves — just this is enough for Keito to be content — Keito touched himself to the thought of Eichi not even a week ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi doesn't push him away even as he shifts to open the drawer on his nightstand. It's mostly empty, the entire surface coated in dust. Abandoned in the corner is a hair comb, which Eichi takes and, silently, offers to Keito.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If you want me to be fixed, do it yourself</span>
  </em>
  <span> — is that what he's saying?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito accepts it in silence, pushing himself off his chair so he can sit on the edge of Eichi's bed. They're so close like this, and as Eichi leans his back to Keito's chest, Keito wonders if he can feel his heartbeat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This would, perhaps, feel more intimate if Eichi's hair wasn't so unkempt. Every few seconds the comb gets caught on a knot, and Keito needs to pull it apart with his fingers, hardly trying to keep his touch gentle or his sighs of frustration quiet. This is Eichi's fault, he doesn't need to be treated delicately for something he caused. Eichi doesn't complain once, even as his neck falls slack and Keito needs to forcibly hold his head upright. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At first, Keito is pessimistic. Eichi is a broken jar, his original form lost to time — no matter how much effort Keito puts towards fitting the pieces together, they'll never meet seamlessly. He knows this, and accepts it, but as he watches Eichi's neglected, knotted hair become smooth under his care, he can't help but strive to do better with the power he's now proven himself to have.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He'd only meant to entertain the illusion of fixing Eichi, initially. But feeling his fingers run through Eichi's hair unobstructed becomes an impetus to push further, and get the results he's been dreaming of seeing, of touching.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't leave until late that night, after his calloused fingers have pulled every knot apart.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He comes back the next day, with a set of barber's scissors tucked in his bag. At the reception counter, he asks if they have showers available to the patients. The woman sitting at the desk looks a bit affronted by his question, but the silent acceptance among hospital staff that this (almost certainly) lonely man who takes hours out of his day to sit in a hospital room is the only reason the Tenshouin heir is still alive stops her from telling him off. Instead, she tells him where they are and what protocols are in place for their use.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito doesn't explain himself when he drops his bag on his chair instead of sitting on it and immediately reaches for Eichi's arm to pull him up. Eichi squawks inelegantly, but lets Keito pull him to his feet. It's only once Eichi's standing, clutching onto Keito's arm and trembling, that Keito remembers the last time he saw him stand was at the altar on his wedding, with a woman who didn't even stick around for two years.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Supporting Eichi at the waist, he drags him towards the in-patient showers. Eichi is unsteady on his feet, and likely a bit reluctant to follow Keito without an explanation, but does his best to match Keito's brisk pace.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The vacant shower they arrive at is large, as expected for the needs it must accommodate. Eichi's shoulders visibly droop at the sight of the shower, but he still strips obediently when Keito tells him to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Would you like to join me?" he asks, the lilt in his voice making it almost seductive. Keito feels the tips of his ears burn as he whips his head in the opposite direction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm not showering with you. I just dragged you here so I could be sure you actually showered. Now hurry up."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's a bit tempted to watch Eichi strip, if he's being honest, but the hospital is the last place where his perversion is welcome, so he keeps his gaze planted on the door. He listens, instead, to the sound of the faucet running, to the thud of shampoo bottles and soap bars hitting the shower floor as Eichi's shaking hands inevitably fail him, to the quiet hum of Eichi's singing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's still enchanting, as weak and off-tune as it may be, and for a minute, Keito feels shaken to his core. Eichi can still sing, just like he used to, the same as he had loved to when he was young.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hearing him sing makes Keito want to sing too, even though he hasn't sung in years. He'd never really thought much of his singing, he still doesn't, but now he's remembering that Eichi had and his gut twists in conflict.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He remembers, letting the shower's clamour fade to white noise as he plants himself into his childhood room and the body of his teenage self, when he'd first sung his image song for Eichi.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was planned to be released the next day, but Eichi, troublesome, imputent Eichi, had insisted that Keito give him a preview. Keito had denied him the first hundred times he asked, firm in his position that Eichi doesn't deserve to hear it more than anyone else, before, predictably, caving the moment Eichi had clung to his arm and asked so earnestly that he almost forgot what they were even arguing about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Back at his room, they'd settled on Keito's bed, sitting with their legs crossed and facing each other. Eichi was wearing one of Keito's shirts, and even though they were, on paper, the same size, Keito's shirt still hung off him just enough that he seemed dwarfed by it. It had reminded Keito of the infuriating fact that Eichi always insisted on wearing clothes too big for him, defiant towards the reality of his frail body and skinny figure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi was rambling on about something (probably Wataru, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> Wataru) as Keito scrolled through his phone, looking for the instrumental mp3 he'd saved for himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Can't I just play the complete audio? It'll sound stupid if I try to sing over the instrumental."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Stop making everything harder than it has to be, Keito," </span>
  </em>
  <span>Eichi had chided him, and then, so brightly (too brightly), added, </span>
  <em>
    <span>"You have a lovely voice, Keito. It's always a pleasure to listen to it."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito had hated, hated, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated</span>
  </em>
  <span> how weak that praise had rendered him. He'd hated how much Eichi could sway him with a compliment no different from the ones Shu had always ignored. He'd hated that he was always forced to think about Shu and Wataru when he was with Eichi, because Eichi was the only one he really cared to think about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he'd sung, in spite of all of his protests. It'd been awkward, embarrassingly awkward, and his voice had wavered uncharacteristically and he couldn't figure out how loud he should be. He hated listening to his voice, at that moment, spilling out all of his disgustingly sentimental feelings and not even tact enough to be graceful about it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hadn't looked at Eichi as he sung. His gaze had darted across his bedroom instead, seeing a young Eichi's phantom darting about. There, at the doorway, was Eichi at five, walking into Keito's room for the first time. At his desk was Eichi at ten, pushing himself up on his tiptoes to watch Keito draw. In his closet was Eichi at thirteen, having fallen asleep tucked against Keito's side while trying to hide from his parents.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On his bed, Keito saw when he finished singing and finally looked up, was Eichi at seventeen, mouth agape and eyes wide, brimming with tears that sparkled in the corners of his eyes and dripped down his cheeks to gather in trails that caught the light of Keito's phone screen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito had frozen when he saw that, not knowing how to respond to an Eichi who wasn't smiling, or nonchalant, or immune to Keito's influence. He'd hated how pleased he felt at being able to pull a reaction, any reaction, out of Eichi.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi had pulled him out of his reverie and into an embrace, twining his arms around Keito's neck and burrowing into his collar. His trembling had burst into heavy, torrential sobs that tore at Keito's heart and had the boy gripping back, pulling Eichi closer towards something (someone) to hold onto.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Kei— Keito, I—"</span>
  </em>
  <span> he'd sobbed, and Keito had held him tighter, not knowing the words to soothe him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"I love you."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"I love you so much, you know. I love you more than anything."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He'd said it again, and again. He'd said those three words with such confidence, as though they were a given, as though they didn't shift Keito's entire world out of perspective.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn't catch most of Eichi's rambling. He was, stupidly, thinking about codons at that moment. He was thinking about how, if a nucleotide was deleted or inserted within a DNA sequence, the entire sequence would shift out of their reading frame. Each codon can only consist of three nucleotides, so if the amount of nucleotides in the sequence changes, the arrangement of codons will alter. As ribosomes read these incorrect codons, they'll produce the wrong amino acids, and, ultimately, a dysfunctional protein. A frameshift mutation, this is called.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito had thought, in that moment, that Eichi had triggered a frameshift mutation in him. Those three stupid words had appeared and suddenly nothing made sense and the entire reality of Keito's relationship with Eichi had been reordered. Everything stopped making sense, and Keito, in response, stopped functioning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or, he stopped functioning until Eichi had pulled back and smiled at him so sweetly, and said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>"You really are my closest friend, Keito. I'm so happy I got to meet you."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And just as quickly as Eichi had shattered all his conceptions about the world and sent it spinning, he'd halted so suddenly that Keito's stomach caught itself propelling onwards. Of course. He was always just </span>
  <em>
    <span>my closest friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and not anything more, and so he'd managed to swallow down all the hateful, selfish things he'd wanted to say in that moment, and instead replied:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Me too. I love you, too."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wonders, as he towels down Eichi's body and blow-dries his thin tresses of blonde hair, if he could ever make this Eichi cry. He wonders, as he trims Eichi's hair so that it looks like a vague approximation of the haircut he'd had in high school, if this Eichi, who managed to fall in love with him so abruptly, is even glad to have met him. He wonders, as he betrays his own inhibitions to kiss Eichi on the forehead as a goodbye, if he could even find the words to sing in the first place.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's uncharacteristically optimistic for the next few days. His manga had been well-received by the publishers, and for the first time in many, many years, it feels like he's walking down a path leading directly to his dream. And Eichi is there, right beside him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's leaning against Keito's shoulder as he draws, and listening intently as he rambles about his ideas for the next few chapters, and smiling just enough that Keito is reminded of what inspired him all those years ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito thinks that, maybe, this is what falling in love is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He certainly </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be in love with Eichi. He probably would be if he took off his glasses, because then he wouldn't see all the flaws that made Eichi so despicable when they first reunited.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That's the truly unfortunate thing, the fact that even Keito's best efforts haven't restored Eichi to what he used to be. Eichi still struggles to eat, and sleep, and find motivation to breathe when Keito isn't around, and his appearance remains a testament to this fact. The six-hour visits Keito manages each day aren't enough to fix three years of neglect, but Keito still tries anyway. He just needs some more time, just a little bit more time before Eichi is back to how he used to be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That's what he thinks, anyway, as he enters Eichi's hospital room on a gray afternoon. His day at work had been miserable, and he wonders if Eichi would be fine if Keito just… held him. Has taking care of Eichi like he used to turned him soft?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's still considering how a hug would fare when he notices that Eichi isn't sitting upright on his bed like he always is. Instead, he finds a lump of blankets with a tuft of blonde hair poking out the top. Is he asleep?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito should be glad right now, Eichi needs sleep, and desperately at that. He should be glad to see him finally getting the rest he's denied himself for so long, but an immature part of him still sours at being denied time with Eichi.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Just when had he begun to like Eichi's presence?)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knows that, reasonably, there's no point in him staying here, but he still drops his bag on the floor and takes a seat. His eyes skim over the mound of blankets before him, filling in the ambiguity of the figure with his memory of how Eichi had slept as a child. He was always curled in on himself, shivering in his perpetual chill, and, more often than not, would give his maids a fright when they came to wake him up in the morning. It wasn't hard to mistake him, in his deathly stillness, for a corpse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That stillness never lasted very long, though. Every few minutes he'd erupt into a bout of coughing, or his entire body would tremble and shake, or he would simply whimper, quiet and pained and always so awfully desperate. He was always clutching onto something, anything, as though he was afraid he'd be whisked away from the material world at a moment's notice. His favorite thing to hold had been Keito; not only was he tangible and solid, but the warmth of his body supplemented Eichi's neglected need for human contact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Would this Eichi hold him? Keito wishes he would. If this Eichi held him, Keito would hold him back, and it would be a promise: </span>
  <em>
    <span>you're not going anywhere, and neither am I; you won't be alone again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This is Keito thinking selfishly again, ultimately. As much as it is keeping close to Eichi so he won't have to suffer anymore, it's keeping Eichi close to him so he won't go to anyone else. That's why Keito should leave right now, while Eichi is asleep and oblivious and he himself is unneeded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he's selfish, so selfish, so he sucks in a breath and leans over the hospital bed. Gently, he takes the blanket into his hands so he can tug it down, just a bit. He wonders if, under all the damage of the past three years, he'll see the face of a sleeping angel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't get to see anything. He tugs at the blanket, but it remains unmoving, held tight in place. He tries again, this time more forcefully, but is unsuccessful when the figure underneath rolls to hold it under its body, still obscured.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Eichi?" Keito calls, and reaches over to try and roll Eichi towards him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi grunts, flailing when Keito gets his hands on him. They share an awkward tug of war, almost reminiscent of their childhood days of scuffling around. Keito triumphs, if only barely, when he scoops Eichi, tangled up in his blankets, into his arms and holds him to his chest like a swaddled infant. Eichi tries to shuffle out of his grip, struggling against the confines of the blankets, and Keito's arms, and his own body's fragility. He balks, ultimately, instead opting to shove his entire weight against Keito, hiding his face in the crook of Keito's neck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't look at me," he murmurs, his voice a desperate whisper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why not?" Being told not to do something is the greatest impetus for the desire to do said thing, but Keito obeys, pulling Eichi closer against his body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You know why," Eichi says, his voice dragging off in a whine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don't </span>
  </em>
  <span>know why."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes, you do!" He contradicts his argument, a bit, leaning back to look Keito in the eyes. "Where did you even get it in your head that you can fix me? Surely not by looking at me!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What? Are they medicating you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm being serious."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're acting like a lunatic." — </span>
  <span>with good reason, Keito thinks, I'd go crazy too</span>
  <span> — "I've— </span>
  <em>
    <span>we've </span>
  </em>
  <span>been working very hard at this. There's no reason for you to just turn around and decide you can't anymore."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But I really…" He vision skirts downwards, before returning to Keito's eyes. One of his hands fists in Keito's collar. "Keito, kiss me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What? No. Do I need to get your doctors?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"See, you don't want to kiss this face, right?' He leans in closer, too close — their noses are brushing against each other. "Because it's disgusting, right? It's not the face that you fell in love with, right? If you understand that, then why do you keep trying to fix me?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I— What's going on, Eichi? This is a lot, even for you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi finally leans away, though he doesn't look any calmer then he did before. He closes his eyes for a single, serene moment, as if to pretend, however briefly, that everything is fine. When he opens his eyes again, the look they hold is wild.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Even though you're supposed to hate me, you keep coming back day after day to take care of me. It's only natural that I'd start to wonder what you see in me, right?" He bites his lip, but his expression remains vacant. "So I asked for a mirror, so that I could see the face you force yourself to stare at for hours on end. I thought that I might see my face from high school, and then it would make sense, and I could rest easy. But…" His brows furrow, and the shadow it casts over his eyes makes their color indiscernible. "I'm even uglier than I imagined. Even after you've put all this time into me, I'm still a broken mess. You should just give up."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I didn't put all this time into you so that you could just give up. Who are you to say that it's impossible?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So I don't get any agency over my life? What, am I your doll?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If that's how you see it, fine. It’s better you let me help you than go off acting like you were before. You need someone to take care of you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So I don't die?" He snorts, almost a laugh. "Let me die, there's no point in keeping me alive."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You know I can't let you die."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And why not?" he asks, even though he knows the answer. "Because I'm Eichi?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Yes, you idiot,"</span>
  </em>
  <span> Keito seethes. "You should know better than anyone that I wouldn't leave you to die."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's not about </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, though, is it? It's about the Eichi in your head, the one you fell in love with. That Eichi wasn't broken."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don't remind me. I hate you; I hate your ugly face and awful scars and the fact that you're nothing like what you used to be. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>I hate that I can't decide if I love you or not</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know." It almost sounds like an acquiescence, and Eichi's face relaxes for a tiny moment, or at least until Keito opens his mouth again. "But I can still fix you. Just give me some more time, I'll make you like your reflection again."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"For what? So you can love me again? So I can fit your tastes?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, I— I'm trying to help you, and you were fine with it until you saw reflection! I'm the one who's had to look at you this entire time, and I'm still trying to fix it!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I thought you were looking at something worth fixing! I thought that, just maybe, there was something in me that reminded you of the old me! But there wasn't!" As if to emphasize his point, he pulls Keito closer, leaving him no space to avoid eye contact. "The Eichi that you loved is dead! You're only trying to fix me because of a delusional whim! Do you want to sit in a hospital watching over a useless fuck up for the rest of your life!?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why can't I—?" His breath catches midway through his sentence, swallowing up the words he'd meant to say. One of Eichi's eyebrows raises; it's a question, it's him sneering and asking, </span>
  <em>
    <span>why can't you what?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What had Keito meant to ask?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why can't I want to bring back the Eichi I loved?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why can't I give you a chance?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why can't I at least try?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yeah, that's it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(—No, it's not. It was:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why can't I love you even as you are now?</span>
  </em>
  <span>)</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Naturally, Keito doesn't go back the next day. Why would he go back? He'd offered so much to Eichi — help, companionship, another chance at life — and Eichi had thrown it all away on a whim. He doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to go back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thinks that, he really does, and he insists as such whenever his lousy brain wanders from ink brushes and crosshatching to sunken eyes and colorless skin. It's only natural he wouldn't want to go back, isn't it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thinks that, but his leg twitches up and down, as if overtaken by a parasite, in a decidedly unnatural manner. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What are you doing here?</span>
  </em>
  <span> it asks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>What can you do here that you couldn't do in Eichi's room?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Truthfully, the list of things he can do in that bleak hospital room greatly dwarfs the things he can do in the comfort of his own home. For one thing, it's simply the presence of another person besides him, the greatest antidote to soothe the anxiety that, maybe, this all is pointless, maybe his entire life's a waste. If he can make Eichi's day better it's enough — he'd lived on that mantra for a decade when he was younger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And another thing: it simply feels wrong to not be at Eichi's side right now. It takes twenty-one days to form a habit, they say, and Keito's far exceeded that. To not be at Eichi's bedside is to move a flowerpot away from the sun. There's that, Keito thinks, and the impending anxiety that Eichi might be dead right now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dammit, why can't he stop thinking about Eichi? When had Eichi managed to revert five years of effort at erasing him entirely?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(</span>
  <span>The answer would probably be: when he gave Keito a reason to wake up that felt more distinctly human than big corporate meetings</span>
  <span>.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wants to be at Eichi's side right now, he knows with certainty, though his mind does everything possible to deny it. Although he knows this, he can't say why. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tries to tackle that question on his second day of remaining at home in the evening. Why does he feel so empty without Eichi around? It's probably because Eichi reminds him of his childhood, when they'd romped around innocently while speaking of their dreams. He's so much closer to that dream than he was before, but somehow it doesn't quite feel like a dream anymore. It's simply the natural course for a man who resolves that he'd like to achieve something, Keito believes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe it's Eichi's fault, if only partially. Eichi had been the epitome of what makes a dream a dream: ephemeral, bright, and untouchable. He was a spirit who danced around the world and laughed as it tried to kick him down, he was a beautiful monster that tormented Keito day in and day out, and Keito had loved it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's very hard to think of dreams inside a hospital room. Any hint of color, of life, is effaced by the pure whiteness of everything inside that room, a hostile sterility that smothers any ambition leading outside its walls. It's only natural, then, that the Eichi who withered within them for the past three years would be so lost to the dreams of the past. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He isn't the idyllic protagonist Keito had daydreamed of a child, nor is he worth any sort of devotion. Just one look at those dead eyes kills whatever adoration he had inspired when he was younger. He's the antithesis to everything Keito had held dear in the past — of course Keito can't fall in love with him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Except, and you must consider this, the fact of the matter is that every thesis must have an antithesis, and each antithesis, its own thesis.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As much as Eichi had embodied the strength and sincerity of childhood dreams in his youth, Keito knows that, surely, there were times when he'd wondered if it was all for naught, if he was better off dying and allowing the change he'd worked so hard for to evaporate. If that's the case, then Keito would like to think that there </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> times when Eichi stops daydreaming about the moment he'll finally drop dead, and quietly allows himself the fantasy of happiness, however brief or intangible. Keito thinks it's a little beautiful, an Eichi that would turn away from the magnanimous weight of everything that crushes him to smile — faintly, just faintly — at the impossibly tiny and unreasonably few reasons he has to live.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thinks this Eichi, the one who reluctantly continues to live despite having every motive and condition to die, to be a little beautiful, too.)</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito returns on the third day with a bouquet and a heavy heart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi, for once, acknowledges that he has a guest, turning around and beginning to ask, "Oh, did you get the test results…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He trails off mid-sentence, sinking the room into a thick silence. The following minute they take to stare at each other is more a battle than anything else — whoever looks away first loses, whoever lets the other in first loses. It's a battle Keito shouldn't be partaking in; did he come here to fight Eichi? He wouldn't have brought a bouquet with him if that was the case. So, he tentatively brings his hand forward, offering the bouquet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi doesn't bite.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes do dart down to appraise it, neatly arranged in an assortment of purple and white, before shifting back up. The shock in his face morphs into a glare. He doesn't say anything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Eichi," Keito says, as if to test the name on his tongue. Eichi almost flinches; Keito tries once more, with confidence. "Eichi."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi doesn’t flinch this time. He continues to level Keito with a glare, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>get out</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>please stop making this harder</span>
  </em>
  <span> all rolled into one. Eventually, though, he caves, and murmurs, "... Keito."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito's heart sings at just the sound of his name. He steps closer, still holding out the bouquet. Eichi makes no effort to reach for it. "Eichi—"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Just get out. I don't want to hear from you anymore." Eichi offers an easy way out, a clean solution with </span>
  <span>(many)</span>
  <span> no loose ends. Keito declines it; if he wanted the easy way out, he wouldn't have gone out and bought this bouquet — he wouldn't even have come.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he gambles, and asks, "If you refuse to talk to me, then who will take care of you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strike one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi's face pinches into a grimace. "Why do you still care? It's not as though you can help me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito gambles once more: "You're important to me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strike two.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, I'm not," Eichi shoots back, quickly. He seems aghast that Keito would even suggest that. "You know I'm not. It's just the old Eichi that you keep projecting onto me, he's the one who's important to you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wouldn't have forced myself to come look at your miserable face if </span>
  </em>
  <span>you </span>
  <em>
    <span>weren't important to me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I told you: that Eichi’s dead, you can't magically bring him back. Maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>you're </span>
  </em>
  <span>the one who needs to go see a doctor."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito should give up now, but he doesn’t. Instead, he readies himself for a final, desperate swing: "When I say that you're important to me, I mean the you who's right in front of me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A clean, solid hit, soaring so rapidly that Eichi does not even seem to comprehend what he just heard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're important to me, Eichi."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No… No, I'm not. Don't you hate me?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sometimes—" </span>
  <em>
    <span>A lot of the time, but never quite enough. </span>
  </em>
  <span>"—But I sometimes hated you back when we were younger, too."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi's unwavering glare falters, his eyes darting back to the bouquet for a second that passes in a near instant. "That was a different kind of hate."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Maybe so," Keito acquiesces as he always does. Eichi doesn't sigh in relief, Keito never quite lets sleeping dogs lie. "But if I didn't care for you, I wouldn't hate you the way I do. You can't say it's entirely different."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're—" The harsh intake of breath that halts that statement sounds like victory, it's Eichi floundering as the truth he so desperately wants to shun surges up to drown him. It's Keito getting a good enough aim with his pick to tear a miniscule crack into a crevice. "You're lying, Keito. You're just saying that because you like how it sounds."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though they don't scald Keito, those words are close enough to the truth to sting. Keito pushes his hand closer to the flame. "You don't?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi swallows noticeably. "I'm not naive enough to indulge myself by believing a lie. You know that."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito leans closer, with his whole body this time. Eichi doesn't even shrink back, he just remains frozen still, staring with those wonderfully wide eyes of his. He looks like a stray offered food in the night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How do you know I'm lying?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quite</span>
  <span> A little desperately: "It </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be a lie."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito sighs heavily, and tuts him, "You should at least entertain me, if you really are nothing like you were when you were younger. Back when we were in high school, you'd never accept the bouquets I brought you. All we ever did was quarrel."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>and we still quarrel now </span>
  </em>
  <span>is an invisible gust of wind that still manages to scrape their skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi's face perks up, just a bit, a moment of pure fascination. Then, he deflates, as if tension is pouring out of him, and says, a bit resigned, "This is the first time you've actually  talked about the past to me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Eichi finally relaxes his posture, Keito allows himself to relax as well, finally taking a seat. It feels assertive in a way it never has before, taking a seat like this — it feels like he's welcoming himself into Eichi's life again. "Is it?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi nods. "You only ever talk with me about the present, but… I can tell you're always thinking about the past."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We have a long past together, it's hard not to think about it when I'm with you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Rather than coming to think about it naturally, it feels more like you wish you were talking to the old me instead. Like I'm not enough so you need to use your imagination to compensate."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's how it used to be," Keito admits, because it's simply the honest truth. Sometimes </span>
  <span>(a lot of the time)</span>
  <span> that truth persists. "But I didn't think about the old you once these past couple of days."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Really? Who did you think about, then?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>You. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The you who's sitting right in front of me." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi draws a breath, and asks, as if by obligation, "About how much you hate me, right?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I wish," Keito says, and he has to laugh. Things would have sorted out much neater if that was the case. But it's not, and as sloppy and heedless as these sentiments are, Keito thinks they hold something beautiful in them. So, he leans forward with a rare smile, and whispers, "I </span>
  <em>
    <span>missed</span>
  </em>
  <span> you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If Keito weren't so close, he wouldn't hear Eichi's sharp inhale as color floods his cheeks. The man does his best to appear chagrined, pulling his brows together and taking his lip between his teeth, but his eyes sparkle in a way they haven't for a long time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks alive. The blush settling across his face colors his complexion in a way a corpse could never achieve, and the pout he forces is a luxury he can only afford now that he's been assured he's wanted, genuinely, by another person, and not for reasons out of his reach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This is the face of a man who's discovered a reason to stay alive, a face almost entirely foreign to Keito. It's love at first.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Keito," he says, the word somewhat of a reprimand. "What are you doing?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm telling you the truth."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi pinches his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. "You can't keep doing this. Every time I think I'm finally out in the clear, you come back and make me feel… things. It's terribly unfair."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You did the same to me, Eichi."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You practically welcomed it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I was very much against it, thank you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi laughs, kind of, and finally accepts the bouquet from Keito. He holds it to his chest, gazing down at it with so gentle an expression that Keito's heart may just implode. This is how he should look, an ethereal thing complimented by an assortment of aromatic flowers; they fit him much better than the IVs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Did you know, Keito," Eichi whispers, as if Keito's not supposed to hear it, "that I memorized the flower language when I was younger?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes," Keito answers. "I was hoping you still remembered it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That's enough for Eichi to smile, drifting his eyes across the bouquet once more before finally moving it to his bedside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'll ask for a vase later."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thank you, those flowers are important."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Of course."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(How couldn't they be important, when they say more than Keito ever could on his own? It's—)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"May I have a kiss?" Keito asks suddenly. He thinks it'd be fitting for them to share a kiss now, if a bit inappropriate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(—purple hyacinths, an apology to both Eichi and himself, and—)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi's face twists in confusion, his head tilting over. "Now? Why are you asking for a kiss out of the blue?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(—daturas, for all the dreams Eichi inspired in him, and—)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ah, I just thought I'd like to," Keito answers. "Your face right now, it looks… alive. I want to kiss it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(—rues, for new beginning still at each other's side, and—)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi shakes his head and clicks his tongue in feigned annoyance, a smile playing at his lips. "So you'll just go kissing any living person, will you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(—white violets, for the chances they've afforded themselves against all odds, and—)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Keito can answer, Eichi's already silencing him by pressing a palm against his lips. Those blue eyes twinkle with mirth as Keito's brows furrow in confusion, and before Keito can seize his wrist, Eichi's already pressing a kiss to the back of his own palm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(—lavenders, because if Eichi can want to live again, and Keito can want to love him again, then surely nothing is impossible.)</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>With just the little pop of color that the bouquet brings, the oppressively white walls of Eichi's hospital room feel a bit more amiable. Eichi's warm smile is equally as welcoming.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's picking at his food again, beating the poor roll out of shape with his fingers. When he notices that Keito’s about to scold him he quickly brings it up to his mouth to nibble at it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Your lunch, again?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi shakes his head, finally opening his mouth to take a proper bite. There's nothing elegant about it, but Keito's entranced.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"My dinner, actually."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Mhm." Eichi looks pleased with himself, the same way a child is after learning to cycle, and it's such a pure look, so greatly at odds with the deep stains of sleep deprivation under his eyes, that Keito feels like he's melting. He feels stupid, it's just a normal smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(No, it's not.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito recalls, with great clarity, that he has seen this smile before, and more than once, at that. The first time he saw it, he was six.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There had been tears in that moment, and scraped elbows and a knee gushing blood. Eichi was sitting on a bench in the gardens, sobbing silently as the blood dripped down his leg and stained the white of his socks. Somehow, he still looked perfectly at home among the oceans of flowers surrounding them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito had been crying a little too, though he was hardly conscious of it. The only indication of his own tears was the layer of mist settling across his vision, blurring the scene into milk-white skin and flowery pastels and the cruel, shrieking burst of red.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"I-I'm sorry,"</span>
  </em>
  <span> Keito had mumbled in a rare moment of honesty. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"I should've known you would get hurt."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi hadn't replied, one hand clasped tightly over his mouth as he stared down at his leg. The tears kept flowing down his cheeks, and his body trembled and shook so violently that Keito struggled to keep him steady.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito had wondered, as he sloppily mopped the blood off with a rag and wrapped Eichi's knee with bandages, what he was truly sorry for. Surely, there was the bloody knee and the horrific sight of tears to be mournful of, a product of Keito's own carelessness, even though the one thing Eichi was supposed to be treated with was </span>
  <em>
    <span>care</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Just the sound of Eichi's little whimpers made him want to rip out his heart and offer it to him, a promise, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>take this so you I can rest assured I'll never hurt you again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But, truthfully, he was apologizing for something infinitely more selfish as well. Though careless, the act of dragging Eichi off to play with him had not bore any malintent. The same could certainly not be said of not bringing him to his nurses, and instead forcing Eichi to sit and cry as Keito made a poor attempt at helping him. If he showed the nurses Eichi's injuries, they'd take him away, wouldn't they?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"I'm sorry," </span>
  </em>
  <span>he'd said again, and finished in his head: </span>
  <em>
    <span>I'm sorry that I'm forcing you to stick with me even though I hurt you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi had reacted this time, lifting his hand off his mouth to set it against Keito's cheek, brushing away his tears with his thumb. When Keito looked up to meet his gaze, Eichi was smiling even though his cheeks were shiny and his eyes were red.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"It's okay, Keito,"</span>
  </em>
  <span> he whispered, and then grinned victoriously. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"Wasn't I amazing? I was going so fast!"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Normally, Keito would have scolded him, but Eichi's smile had seemingly ignited a flame in him, and the hot drafts had lifted his sensibilities up and swept them far away. So, instead, he lifted his own hand to Eichi's head, thinking for the first time in his life that, just maybe, all those stupid fairy tale romances weren't so fantastical after all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"You were.")</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment the broken, apathetic man before him seems to take on the face of that crying, bloodied boy, the one who first taught Keito that love wasn't solely for the idiotic and unfocused. This man taught him something similar, he muses, and by instinct reaches out to rest his hand atop Eichi's head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like a rabbit, Eichi perks up in instance, his posture straightening in a rare moment of him sitting up properly. He blinks once, twice, then slowly parts his lips around Keito's name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"...Keito?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito's face engulfs in flames, swiftly pulling his hand away. "I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi, unhelpfully, lets out this soft, huffy noise that could mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and bends his lips into a pout. His hand snaps out to latch onto Keito's wrist, gripping it with as much strength as his tiny limbs can muster.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pulls Keito's hand back, awkwardly guiding it to the top of his head once more. There it rests, a heavy weight in this room where everything feels unnaturally light and airy — it's the act of grounding something, of finding a way to hold the air in his hands, to make the immaterial tangible. It's the act of remembering that this Eichi is the one he loved before, and by extension, the one that he still loves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Keito doesn't make an effort to resist, Eichi smiles, dropping his hand back to his lap. He looks up at Keito with the charming gaze of a vixen, his eyes curtained by long, pale lashes. Keito can almost turn a blind eye to the deep purple hues that stain his under-eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You know, I always loved it when you did this," Eichi says, his voice flirty, but also dangerously, undoubtedly honest, and that's what sinks the line into Keito's stomach. Thousands of unspoken affections from years past swirl around his mind in a clamorous boil that threatens to spill over. "I think I missed it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito simply nods, and keeps his hand perched atop Eichi's head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I missed it</span>
  </em>
  <span> is awfully similar to </span>
  <em>
    <span>I missed you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Somehow, the weight of his hand atop Eichi's head feels like returning home after a long, lonely journey.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito thinks he would have been fine with that: returning to Eichi's dreary room day after day to nurse him back to health. It would have hardly even been a matter of him being fine with it anyhow, if it was for Eichi, his Eichi, it would have seemed to simply be par for the course.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But naturally nothing can ever stay </span>
  <em>
    <span>just right </span>
  </em>
  <span>between the two of them. Eichi has the unsavory habit of rushing in spite of everything weighing him down, and like a flower drawn to sunlight, Keito has no choice but to follow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So when he walks into Eichi's room anticipating a few tranquil hours at Eichi's bedside, and instead walks in to find someone else seated in </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>chair, his gut reaction is a despairing resignation. The man in </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>chair turns to look at him as Eichi looks up; the second their eyes meet feels like a brief dip into purgatory. Those red eyes could belong to none other than Rei Sakuma, and just the thought of finding </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rei Sakuma</span>
  </em>
  <span> seated at </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eichi's </span>
  </em>
  <span>bedside is enough to give Keito a headache.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why hello," Rei says after a </span>
  <em>
    <span>long</span>
  </em>
  <span> minute, his lips quirking into a smile. Keito doesn't return it. "How have you been, Keito-kun?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What the hell are you doing here?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rei has the gall to </span>
  <em>
    <span>laugh. </span>
  </em>
  <span>"Am I not allowed here?" —</span>
  <em>
    <span>You're not</span>
  </em>
  <span>— "I simply came to visit an old friend."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You two aren't friends."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Who are you to decide that?" Eichi chimes from his bed. There's a pout on his face, but he looks positively delighted to observe Keito's inner panic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You two hate each other."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rei blinks up at him for a moment, before throwing his head back with a tremendous cackle. "Well! I suppose I came to see how my arch enemy has been rotting away before he finally kicks the bucket for good."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Is that so?" Eichi responds with an easy smile. "I don't intend on dying soon, Sakuma-kun."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It'd be boring if you went that easily."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They go on chattering like that, effortlessly dancing across the thin line between hostility and amicability. They sync with each other so naturally that Keito doesn't know how to interject.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seeing them together like this, it occurs to Keito that they really do look good together, cohesive despite their disparity from each other. Opposites attract, after all, and no one emblazons that concept like these two. What else could explain why Eichi's smiling right now, even though he spent weeks refusing to even meet Keito's eyes?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They fit together so nicely, indeed, like two pieces of a jigsaw. Keito can't quite seem to fit next to either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Take a seat," Rei beckons to him, as if reading his thoughts. "No point in just standing there."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Somehow, it feels a bit taboo to be invited to take a seat in this room. It's like being led around his own home by an intruder. Keito takes the seat anyway, just a bit miffed that Rei is able to sit closer to Eichi than he is. Neither of those two seem to notice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They resume talking just as quickly as they had begun to before. Somewhere along the line, after having naturally found himself eluded from the conversation, Keito notices the meal platter abandoned at Eichi's bedside. It seems that, enraptured in a conversation with their guest, Eichi had entirely forgotten about his dinner.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rei doesn't come every day after that, but he does return often enough for Keito to learn to anticipate him. It's unendingly aggravating how he, despite having shed the rough-and-tumble look he'd had when he was younger, still manages to exude an air of utmost confidence, like he owns the place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He teases Keito, then picks a fight with Eichi, and all the while never seems to care about whatever boundary he may be blatantly disregarding. He's like a stray that invited himself into a home, coming and going as he pleases.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's an odd type of irritation when Rei is around, because he doesn't even dislike Rei. And to call it mere jealousy, though that surely is part of it, just feels ironic. There'd been a time, if Keito remembers correctly, when Eichi had been jealous of Rei's connection with him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Are you going to leave me for your other friend?" </span>
  </em>
  <span>Keito remembers him asking one day, as the watched the sunrise together after a sleepover at the hospital.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito hadn't thought, at time, to ask how Eichi had come to know of Rei. Instead, he inquired, </span>
  <em>
    <span>"Why would I?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Because he can show you so many more things than I can, and knows so much more than I do,"</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eichi had answered, matter-of-factly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"He's surely a lot more interesting than I am."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"There's plenty of things you know that he doesn't. And I don't want to spend my whole life having someone else spoon feed their life story, anyway. If there's something neither of us know, let's go discover it together."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And they had discovered those things together, and Keito had even made the decision to turn against Rei in Eichi's favor during high school. So why, then, does he feel so antsy right now?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Is it the fear that this flawed but undeniably beautiful Eichi he's watched grow over the past few months may slip away as easily as Keito had disappeared even after being a solid pillar in Eichi's childhood? Is it the fear of becoming expendable after all the devotion he reluctantly put towards Eichi?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His anxieties must be evident, because one day, after exhausting every possible argument he could use against Eichi, Rei turns to him and asks, "What are you so tense for? Scared of me stealing your man, or something?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito wheezes, feeling as scandalized as he always does around the oddballs. There's no acceptable way to respond to this, not when Eichi's sitting right there, perfectly knowledgeable about Keito's feelings and not the naive thing Keito'd imagined him to be years ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Is that so, Keito?" Eichi prods, as if he's reading Keito's feelings across his face. He probably is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Disgruntled by the mischievous look on Eichi's face, Keito reaches over to pinch his cheek, and, not very subtly at all, changes the topic. "Don't you have a career to be worried about right now, Sakuma?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before he's to leave, later that evening, Keito is stopped by a hand tugging at his sleeve. Rei's already gone home, leaving just the two of them to sit together in this eerily bright room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Keito," Eichi says, as if testing the words on his tongue. "You're jealous, aren't you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He says this lightly, as if this is all just a joke to him. It probably is, Keito's feelings are beyond juvenile. Still, hearing it put into words so blunty is like a crack against Keito's back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are you surprised?" he responds, more harshly than he'd meant to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, not really. This isn't really new for you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span>." The words are a bite. Eichi doesn't even blink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You don't need to be so defensive, I'm not making fun of you." —</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes, you are. You most definitely are</span>
  </em>
  <span>— "Does it really bother you that I'm making a friend who's not you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"What do you think?"</span>
  </em>
  <span> Keito seethes, whipping around to grab onto Eichi's outstretched wrist. His grip is bruising. "It's the same shit it was with Hibiki. You're always running ahead towards the next shiny thing you can find. Next thing I know, you're gonna have disappeared again, and after I put all this time into you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi tuts, "I'm my own person, Keito. Just because I have a life outside of you doesn't mean I'm going to leave you entirely."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know that. Stop patronizing me!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm not," Eichi sighs. "I'm just afraid that I may not be able to live for myself if I spend every moment glued to your side. Kiryu-kun probably felt the same, back when you two were Akatsuki."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why are you complaining about this now!? You </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> that I'm like this, why did you let me come back if you were just gonna throw me away when you got annoyed with it? Why did you even entertain me, when I…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't finish his sentence, too caught him in what he's feeling to properly articulate it. Even as Keito seethes and screams at him, Eichi remains an impassive wall. Finally, once he's had enough of Eichi and all the problems he always manages to cause, Keito pulls away, hardly noticing the way Eichi's wrist has begun to purple.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's nearly out to door when Eichi speaks up once again, his voice a distant breeze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are you just as afraid as I am, Keito?" he says, perhaps to himself. "Some people would call that love."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito slams the door on his way out.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He goes back the next day, if only because it'd be a bigger loss if he didn't. It's always like this when they fight: Keito running away with a promise of never returning only to peek his head through the door days later. Like this, at least, he can't be called a coward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi has the gall to smile at him when he enters the room, looking like a deity surrounded by white. For a moment, Keito even manages to forget that he's angry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They remain silent as Keito sinks into his seat. He watches, from the corner of his eye, as Eichi's smile softens with pity, and feels the way his posture slouches.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I thought you would run away again," Eichi says, reaching a hand out to card through Keito's hair. "I'm surprised you came back so soon."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito says nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's not trying to be troublesome, he isn't even really that upset, but he can't manage to force words out. Just when it seemed that things were getting better between the two of them, he had to go and ruin it. He doesn't deserve to be sitting in this room, next to Eichi.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't deserve to have Eichi's hand upon his head, gently stroking him with a fondness so warm he could weep. It makes him feel like a child again, naive and protected by the world and so thoughtlessly in love with Eichi.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wishes he could still be so easily enraptured by everything that Eichi does, that he could love him as some idyllic and faultless. He wishes, above all, that loving Eichi could go to what it was when they were younger: an easy answer that was simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>correct.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry," he mumbles under his breath, the words trembling as they spill into the air. "I'm sorry."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi doesn't say anything, he just keeps petting Keito and staring at him with a look so kind that it's hard not to burst. Keito tilts his head up to look closer, and notices the tremble of his lip and the shimmer in his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You don't need to entertain me. I'm probably just making your condition worse."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That's the worst of all — even after all his promises to fix Eichi, to make him want to live again, Keito still had to burden him with argument after argument. Just sitting here is more than he deserves, he's just forcing Eichi to sit through more and more of his shit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He resolves to leave, because the last thing he wants is to force Eichi to deal with the mess he made, and is about to stand up when Eichi’s arms snake around his neck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi holds him so loosely, as though someone so frail as him could damage Keito. His voices tremors as he whispers into Keito's ear, a broken plea that speaks more to his misery than the scars on his wrist ever could.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Please, don't cry, Keito," he begs, then grips Keito just a bit tighter. Keito hadn't realized he'd been crying. "I… I need you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His breath catches on a hiccup, so painfully raw that just the noise sends goosebumps down Keito's arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"...I want you to stay with me," Eichi adds, near silently. This confession is perhaps the most selfish of all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito's the silent one, now, unable to find the words that could assure Eichi that he isn't leaving, not until his skin rots off his body. He wouldn't dream of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He must take too long to decide what to say, gone stiff as a board in Eichi's grip, because he feels Eichi start to slip away, slowly and reluctantly. For a second, Keito feels just as he had when he watched Eichi get married and slip between his fingers like sand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just before he can pull away completely, Keito wraps his arms 'round Eichi's waist, pulling him into a proper embrace. They both stiffen for a moment, two grown men navigating a type of intimacy they haven't shared in years, before Eichi melts into him with a sigh and everything feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>right.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks, as Eichi arms twine his neck once more, pulling him impossibly closer, </span>
  <em>
    <span>this must be home.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"...I wish we didn't have to fight. I wish we could go back to how we were before," Eichi murmurs against Keito's dampening collar. "It's all because I had to go and become something you hate. I'm sorry, Keito."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm the one who left you," Keito whispers back. "I'm the one who should be saying sorry."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi crumples further against his chest, and sobs. Before his common sense can kick in and tell him off, Keito curls over and wheezes pathetically into Eichi's hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This must remind Keito of some memory from childhood, or a thousand memories, because holding Eichi like this feels like returning to a haven long lost to time. Surely, if he took the time to think about it, he could recall the scent of Eichi hair right against his nose, and this dampness of his shirt, and so many moments where they'd clutched at each like they were the last thing they had.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could recall, surely, but he doesn't, because none of those Eichis are quite as dear to him as the broken one crying in his arms right now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry," he heaves again, and a thousand times more in his head, because it can never be enough. He shifts Eichi in his arms, content to take the weight off his body; so much of it must have come from him, after all. "I'm sorry for being selfish."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You’re not selfish," Eichi grumbles into his neck. "You wouldn't have wasted so much time watching over me if you were."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But I tried to take advantage of you. I took care of you so that you would—"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Shut up, Keito."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito's first instinct is to obey; his first thought is to shake his head and continue. He means to, anyhow, until Eichi pulls away from his chest to look him in the eye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know you better than anyone, so don't try to argue with me." He fixes his hands on Keito's shoulders, his nails digging into the shirt's fabric. "You've always been too selfless for your own good, always bustling about for others' sake. It's laughable to hear you call yourself selfish."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You can't deny that I'm possessive."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm not trying to," Eichi huffs with a laugh. "It's not hard to see."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And yet you still insist that it's not an issue."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Of course." Eichi's eyes shine with a resoluteness Keito hasn't seen in years. He's missed it. "It's annoying and troublesome to deal with, and certainly not something I'd ever look for in a companion. I say this, and yet… there's no way I'd love you less for it. I suppose, in my view, it's charming that you'd want to serve me all on your own. If you look at it that way, I'm the selfish one."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito's cheeks </span>
  <em>
    <span>burn</span>
  </em>
  <span> as he shakes his head. How could he have thought Eichi to be a new person when he hasn't changed one bit — always spouting off troublesome nonsense? How could Keito be expected to hear that Eichi loves him, in his own words, and simply swallow the words down obediently? If they were the type to accept each other's feelings as they came, then, certainly, things would have played out differently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"...You're incorrigible."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi's laugh is pure saccharine, and everything that Keito loves. It's a fragment of Eichi, after all. "Am I? You surely feel the same, right? There's no way you thought I was some pure, perfect being even back in high school."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Of course not, you were an absolute demon. You still are."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And yet you still loved me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito shouldn't enable Eichi, not when he's finally found the ground to tie him 'round his finger, but there's nothing he can say when Eichi speaks the absolute truth. It's not like he could find the heart to, anyway."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>So,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Eichi continues, a pleased smile curved upon his lips, "it can't be a surprise that I'd fall in love with you, even knowing that you're possessive, annoying, and overprotective. You came to save me when I was all alone, after all."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's… that means nothing."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi's smile melts away, but he doesn't quite look upset. Tilting his head, he asks, "How? You saved my life, you know."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito can’t bear to look at him; it'd be so easy to look into his eyes and lose himself within them, and so forget the pile of contradictions between what Eichi says and what Keito knows to be true. So, he pointedly tilts his head away to stare at the (slightly-wilted) bouquet atop Eichi's end table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You love me because I came into your life and stuck with you, right?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes? I'm quite sure that I hated you after you left me, you know. There's no other way you'd be able to win me over."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're not in love with </span>
  <em>
    <span>me,</span>
  </em>
  <span> then. You're just in love with the person who saved you." To speak these words prods at a wound festering upon his skin for decades. "The person sitting at your side right now could've been anyone, and it just happened to be me. I'm not someone irreplaceable like you are."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Out of the corner of his eye, Keito watches Eichi's face fall, genuine aggravation finally painting itself across his features. There's a few, painfully long, seconds of silence, before Eichi huffs a sigh and says, "You're so stupid, Keito."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>"You're stupid, really stupid." Eichi's elegant, bony hands come up to cup Keito's cheeks, forcing him to turn his head. When they make eye contact, Keito wonders if it's the trace of a smile he sees in Eichi's eyes. "Yes, I probably would</span> <span>fall in love with anyone who bothered to sit by side and deal with me, but that doesn't mean just anyone </span><em><span>would. </span></em><span>You came back to me, and sat at my bedside, and taught me to live again because you're </span><em><span>you</span></em><span>. No one else would've done that. So, I guess you're right, I did fall in love with the person who saved me."</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That’s…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi’s got this look in his eye, a bit childish and plenty smug, like a kid who's won a game at a festival. He's always had this smile, tucked away behind the prettier ones that speak more to his capabilities as a businessman. Keito's sure that no one has seen it quite as much as he has, the uneven quirk of his lips and the inelegant furrow of his brows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hm?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's just… hmph, you're really troublesome, you know. How do you expect me to respond when you go off spouting nonsense like that?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's not nonsense," Eichi pouts, his eyes still aglow with a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Isn't it?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi lips curve down further, his eyes glow brighter. "You're so mean. I spill my heart out for you and the only response you can think of is a lecture."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stare at each other like that for a moment, forcing frowns they both know to be fake. It only takes a moment before something warm comes crackling up from within them, quiet giggles that flame into robust laughter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>As Keito laughs, </span><em><span>truly</span></em> <em><span>laughs</span></em><span>, from the bottom of his heart for the first time in years, he thinks that, surely, Eichi must have saved him as well.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fine, sorry," he breathes over a laugh. "I guess I love—"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's warm, and sweet, and oh, so delightful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>you too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They haven't kissed in years, and if you discount drunken little experiments, this would be their very first kiss. Eichi's bony, chilly fingers dig into his cheeks a bit painfully, and the angle strains his neck — it's perfect. It's perfect, because in this moment no one needs to assure Keito that this is just a delusion, that he'll wake up from this dream and look down to meet a stranger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(He'd been wrong when he told himself that Eichi’s chapped lips would make him any less pleasant to kiss.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Eichi pull away, only by the breadth of a hair, and his eyes slowly open, Keito realizes that he'd forgotten to close his own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You didn't let me finish," he grumbles, a bit breathless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Save it," Eichi replies, his cheeks dusted pink, "for when I'm someone worth saying that to."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito laughs, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>You're </span>
  </em>
  <span>the incorrigible one. I love—"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi's lips are back on his own. Keito remembers to close his eyes this time, and even manages to slip his hands under Eichi's shirt before they pull apart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Incorrigible,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Keito huffs, even though he's smiling. "You should let me finish; I—"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time, Eichi bites his lip, and giggles into his mouth when Keito's breath catches. Keito licks his lips, just to wipe off the smug grin he knows is there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're the incorrigible one. You just want me to kiss you, don't you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not at all. I just wish you'd let me finish."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I even asked you nicely… Am I going to need to tell you to shut up?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If you want me to shut up," Keito begins, his lips curled in a dangerous delight, "then make me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And so Eichi does, wrapping his arms 'round Keito's neck to pull him close and keep him there. He really intends to shut Keito up, as though it makes a difference.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(</span>
  <span>It doesn't, not by a long shot</span>
  <span>.)</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>With age, Keito's inhibitions had withered away, surely, because that's the only way he could manage to ask Eichi out on a date between kisses, despite Eichi's best efforts to stop him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(</span>
  <em>
    <span>"I told you to wait,"</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eichi had heaved, once he finally caught his breath to speak.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"I don't want to wait," </span>
  </em>
  <span>Keito had replied. What he'd meant by that was:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I'm tired of waiting.</span>
  </em>
  <span>)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He'd left the hospital uncharacteristically chipper, incredibly conscious of the fact that, in a week's time, Eichi will be leaving with him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The week manages to impose itself as both something magnanimous and underwhelming, for every hour the anticipation coiling his chest constricts, and every day seems endless with the weekend looming just over the horizon, but, all the same, a week is little to nothing when compared to the lifetime Keito has spent dreaming of Eichi's mere silhouette. Why had it been so difficult, anyhow? If he could ask out the Eichi who once hated him, why couldn't he ask out the Eichi who'd trusted him as a companion?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Was it truly necessary for Eichi to shatter into a million little pieces?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Keito supposes so; how else would he be able to piece him back together? And what else besides that could Keito even offer?)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you really want to be seen in public with me?" Eichi asks, midway through the week. He poses it as a rhetorical question, but the intent is clear: </span>
  <em>
    <span>think this through again, more properly. Clean your glasses and see me for what I'm worth.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everything, you're worth everything,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Keito thinks, but simply says, "I wouldn't ask you out if I didn't want to."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi ignores him. "Won't you be embarrassed, being seen besides me?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why would I? You're beautiful.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Stop being difficult. If you don't want me to take you out you should say so."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi bites his cheek in a pout and turns away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"...I don't want you to change your mind."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It'll take a lot to change my mind after this. I've changed my mind plenty already, anyhow."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I suppose. You'd really ought to make up your mind."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> made up my mind. You're insufferable."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They lapse back into silence, then, Eichi's nails kneading at his blanket like a cat. His nails are painted today, just enough to cover the discoloration underneath. It's a confusing whirlwind of emotions that surges through Keito when he realises that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he's </span>
  </em>
  <span>the person Eichi's trying to look nice for; who else would it be but the man who sits by his side for hours at a time every single day?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hmm…" It's a soft, near silent whisper, directed more towards the window than Keito. It might seem casual, too, to those who don't know that Eichi </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> think of more than business and mischief. Keito's not one of those people.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You have something to say?" Keito asks, his voice a bit louder than it probably should be. Eichi flinches minutely. "Speak up."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi shakes his head, but complies, his voice so quiet as to be drowned by the constant hum of the machines hooked up to him. He likely means for his words to go unheard, but Keito's spent more than enough time sat at his side, trying his very best to decipher coarse whispers and wheezing gasps. This is nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"... Are you sure you want to go out with </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and not the Eichi you have dreamed up in your head?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Five painful seconds of silence pass, as Keito's mind reels through too many emotions for him to properly comprehend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're stupid."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi stares at him with this woefully raw look in his eyes, before a feathery giggle forces itself out his throat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Is that a yes?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes,</span>
  </em>
  <span> damnit." One of Eichi's hands rises to muffle his laughter, the other reaches towards Keito to rest awkwardly atop his palm. Keito entwines their fingers before he can think not to. "You're starting to piss me off."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Only starting to?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What, is it an achievement for you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No," Eichi answers, but judging by his sort of half-smile, it might as well be. "I'm, as you put it, pissing myself off as well."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi's vision naturally drifts away from Keito's eyes, and down towards their joined palms. Keito experimentally squeezes his hand, and feels his heart thump happily when Eichi's eyes curl into half-moons.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I wish," Eichi begins, still staring down at their hands with a look so fond Keito could vomit. "That it was easy. Loving you, I mean. It probably would've been so easy back in high school, but I always took you for granted. I don't think I deserve to be loved at all, least of all by you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't think you'd ever pay me a second glance if it was easy. You love me because I'm there when it gets hard, don't you?" </span>
  <em>
    <span>You love me</span>
  </em>
  <span> is a bit dizzying to say, especially with the certainty this situation calls for. "And stop going on about what you deserve and don't deserve. If I want to love you, it's my choice."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi doesn't answer that, but his lips do curl up into a pleased smile. It twists at Keito's heart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What?" he asks, already knowing to be annoying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That smiles curves up further, like sunlight spilling past silken sheets, and Eichi hums, "Keito loves me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Keito's first thought is to shoot back with </span>
  <em>
    <span>when has there ever been a doubt about that?</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he silences himself in time to remember the obvious rebuttal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if he can read Keito's thoughts, Eichi's smile dims just slightly, but quickly regains its luster as his hand drifts up to Keito's cheek.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You hated me out of love.</span>
  </em>
  <span> …Is that it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Perhaps that's for the best. Perhaps, there's no greater love than that that is borne from hate overcome. Perhaps, the inky stain of those memories on Keito's conscious meant more than just misery and spite.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito places his own, calloused palm over Eichi's hand against his cheek, unable to even appreciate the skin's smoothness with how taut it is, tight against the sharp protrusions of bone. They feel sharper yet with the knowledge that, some three inches down and over, there's an upset of pink and white and red, of skin torn out of place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's not a very pretty hand, that's for sure, but held so tenderly against his cheek, Keito finds it quite lovely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"When was the last time you looked in the mirror?" he asks, and Eichi doesn't even need to respond, for the answer is obvious the moment his face falls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Is there something good to be found in those scars? Is there a purpose for those heavy eyes, those hallowed cheeks, those colorless lips. Most likely not, if they could make his beloved Eichi seem so detestable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They should be marks of evil, by that logic, but Keito gazes upon them, and falls in love with them, and can't bring himself to curse them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I haven't since I decided that I'm the ugliest person on Earth."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito smiles, though he shouldn't. The Eichi in front of him is quite similar to the one from before, but Keito would never dare call him ugly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You should look again; I want you to see the person I fell in love with."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That reflection is quite ugly, and flawed, just like the bony hand resting up against Keito's cheek, upon which he turns his head to lay a kiss.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's been so long since Keito last saw Eichi wearing something other than his hospital gown. His hands shake as he reaches up to his collar, unsteady with weakness and anticipation, and he's hardly begun to form a knot before Keito slaps his hands away to knot the tie for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I can do it myself," Eichi says, but he doesn't seem particularly bothered. This is ground-breaking and familiar at once, intimate in ways they've certainly felt before, but all the same a step in a new direction. It's no longer </span>
  <em>
    <span>I need to hold you close so you don't drift away</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but, rather, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I want to hold you close so I have this memory when we part.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They're so close that their noses brush when Keito raises his head, and at the sight of Keito's face screwed up in embarrassment, Eichi bursts into laughter, a soft trickle with the melody of bells. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Keito thinks, but he doesn't bother saying it. Knotting Eichi's tie says it, asking him out on a date says it, simply sitting in this chair says it, constantly and without any signs of stopping.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Doubtless, there's an </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span> in every millisecond spent in this room, silent but resounding with color, making the off-white walls seem just that much more colorful.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi's pulling away before Keito can make up his mind about whether he wants to kiss him or not, bringing a hand up to his bangs to straighten them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It'd be easier with a mirror."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes, it probably would."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There's an obvious implication to that, consent that Keito clearly wasn't prepared for. It must show on his face, because Eichi tilts his head and offers him a comforting smile, as if he's the one who needs reassurance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time it's Keito's hands trembling, betraying his disquiet as he leans towards Eichi's bedside table. In the lowest drawer there's a hand mirror, already collecting dust. Keito holds it like it's a bug, and yet his grasp is so gentle he may as well be holding Eichi himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Is he seeing Eichi's reflection prematurely?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lets Eichi take the mirror from him before he can drop it, and it rests mockingly upon the bed for a long minute before Eichi finally sucks in a breath and holds it up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eichi’s eyes go wide when he sees his face, and Keito feels his stomach twist. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What if he thinks I'm wrong? What if he tells me that I was lying? What if he refuses to believe that someone with a face like his can be loved?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It doesn't help when Eichi's lip quivers, his eyes darting about as he tries to capture every detail of his own face. Keito wonders, as he balls his clammy palms into fists, just what Eichi is thinking. Does he think his skin is too pale, too translucent under the harsh fluorescent lights? Is the harsh dip of his cheekbones detestable to him, or perhaps the shadows just above Is? Is he mourning the bright, sparkling eyes that had made so many fall in love with him?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito's so caught within his worries that he hardly notices Eichi's tears. They pool in the corners of his eyes almost shyly, as though Eichi, with that unchanging expression of his, does not realize they're there. When they finally spill over onto his cheeks, they leave little shining trails, the mark of a wayfarer into the night. Those trails are traveled again, then again, till Eichi's chin drips with the moisture, his cheeks practically glowing. Still, Eichi's face does not change, staring wide-eyed at his expression in the mirror.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He must hate what he sees, he must think this entire thing has been a waste of time, he must regret</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"…happy…"'</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That singular word is all Keito hears, a near-silent whisper ghosting by his ears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Come again?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I… look happy." Finally, Eichi pulls his eyes away from his reflection, looking up to meet Keito's. The look in his eyes is so honest that it may very well burn Keito, but like a moth drawn to a flame, he has no choice but to look. "Don't I look happy, Keito?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito chokes on something invisible, forcing itself down his throat, and can only answer with a nod. Tentatively, he reaches his hand out to stroke Eichi's cheek, and wipe his tears away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Are you happy?</span>
  </em>
  <span> he's asking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if he can hear Keito's thoughts, Eichi's eyes crinkle, and, finally, he smiles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keito realizes, then, that this is what he fell in love with. The Eichi who can smile even though his lips are chapped; the Eichi whose cheeks glow pink regardless of how colorless they may be; the Eichi whose eyes shine as though the heavy shadows beneath them are simply illusions. What Keito loves, above all, is the Eichi who can look at his broken, ugly reflection, and find that he is happy in spite of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're beautiful," Keito whispers, once he's finally found the words.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>OOOOHH that was a wild ride!!!</p><p>Initially, the scene I wanted to write was the end scene, in which Eichi looks at his reflection for the first time in a while and bursts into tears upon finding that he can call himself beautiful,, but as I wrote the build-up to that scene, it never quite felt enough. Keito and Eichi's relationship was originally supposed to be an eroded version of what they have now, but I love childhood friends to enemies so I ended up changing their dynamic completely. A big thing I tried to focus on was how the characters changed in the past five years, both in appearance and personality,, I hope my changes fit ;-; Their relationship also ended up way more problematic than I first anticipated, but likely for the best,, I think that without being able to work through their issues, they'd never last as both friends and romantic partners,,</p><p>I feel like, at the end of the day, I wanted to write a story about a bond that endures the heaviest of conflicts. I hope that got across.</p><p> </p><p>Flower meanings:</p><p>Purple Hyacinths; ("—purple hyacinths, an apology to both Eichi and himself, and—"):<br/>Sorrow, I'm sorry</p><p>Daturas; ("—daturas, for all the dreams Eichi inspired in him, and—"):<br/>I dreamed of you</p><p>Rues; ("—rues, for new beginning still at each other's side, and—"):<br/>Repentance, Clear Vision, Beginning Anew</p><p>White Violets; ("—white violets, for the chances they've afforded themselves against all odds, and—"):<br/>Let's take a chance</p><p>Lavenders; ("—lavenders, because if Eichi can want to live again, and Keito can want to love him again, then surely nothing is impossible."):<br/>Constancy, Love, Devotion, It reminds us to believe in the impossible, and of the power of love</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>